Unsafe Experiment
by E. Hutchinson
Summary: It was always clear that Sherlocks lack of safety precautions while conducting his experiments were eventually going to get someone hurt. John/Lock but nothing extreme
1. Life at 221B

John collapsed into his armchair with an audible sigh it had been a long day at the clinic. An endless parade of small wailing children with colds and worried geriatrics convinced that they had the latest outbreak in bird flu that they heard about the other evening on the news. Gently rubbing his fingers over his temple he attempted to work away some of the stress of the day as he gathered his strength in order to get up and go fix himself I nice cup of tea.

As the kettle began to whistle the sound of the water boiling already beginning to relax him, he heard the clatter of his roommate returning to the flat.

"Sherlock I was just making a cup of tea would you like one?" John yelled out, already grabbing a second mug from the cabinet doing his habitual inspection for any dangerous residue left over from one of Sherlock's experiments before using a dish.

"John you must see what I was able to get from Molly today!" Was his roommates reply with the excited tone of a young boy showing off a new toy.

"What's that then?" John asked. He was then grateful for his medical and military training because it was only the combination of the two that kept him from spilling two boiling hot mugs of tea on himself when he rounded the corner into the living room only to confront his roommate proudly brandishing a container with a severed head. The face was swollen and covered with red splotches and patches of shingles indicated adult chicken pox. The most disturbing part was the small patch of necrotizing fasciitis, which had begun on the left cheek already exposing a portion of the muscle and tendons below. Every side of the container was marked with biohazard symbols and labels and John was at least happy to see that the required safety seals where still in place.

"What the hell Sherlock! You do not have the proper safety equipment to be doing any kind of research on a flesh eating bacteria in the house!" John shouted. He generally was not too off put by his roommates experiments as long as he kept them a reasonable distance away from anything edible and clearly labeled containers but this was crossing a line. He was not a pathologist but he remembered enough from his medical school rotations to know that the labeling on that container was indicative of a viral or bacterial infection that had a high probability of becoming airborne.

"Don't be daft John I do not plan to break any of the seals on the container I simply plan on observing and logging the progress of the necrosis. I have only missed the first couple of hours post mortem. I could use my observations in later investigations." Sherlock explained.

"I don't understand why you couldn't do your observations at the labs at Barth," John lamented, "But I suppose that is as close to reasonable as I can expect from you Sherlock, but you need to keep that in your room where Mrs. Hudson will not see it and you are definitely not keeping that skull." John replied smirking at the last part and offering Sherlock his mug of tea.

"No, no I have no need for a replacement skull that is what you are here for" Sherlock replied distractedly waving a hand in dismissal of the tea and moving toward his room still staring into the container like an excited school boy.

John shook his head as the genius disappeared into his room unsure if the man had intentionally made a joke or legitimately saw him simply as a replacement to his old skull, which Mrs. Hudson had hidden away. Letting it go for the moment he placed Sherlock's tea down on the end table by the sofa and proceeded to get comfortable with his own mug in his chair. Grabbing his laptop to check the latest news and his email. It was a couple of hours before his eccentric roommate re-emerged from his room.

"John, why did you make me a cold mug of tea?" Sherlock asked with some confusion picking up the offending mug.

"What…Sherlock I made that for you when you got in hours ago. Just stick it in the microwave." John replied amazed at how oblivious his highly observant friend could be to the passing of time.

"I cant I currently have an experiment in the microwave." Sherlock replied, gracefully collapsing in his chair.

"SHERLOCK! You agreed not to do experiments in the areas I need to prepare food. You are going to end up getting one or the both of us ill one of these days." John shouted his face turning red.

Sherlock dismissed his roommates concerns with a hand wave. "John I will not allow you to poison yourself and I am aware of the location of all my ongoing experiments. You worry far too much. "

"Whatever its your funeral" John mumbled angrily under his breath. Knowing it was a loosing battle to continue with Sherlock at the moment. He knew by now that nothing would dislodge his friends strange belief that a laboratory and a kitchen could co-exist without issue.


	2. Chemistry 101

Sherlock was absolutely bored he hadn't had a proper case in exactly twelve days 7 hours and 34 minutes. _See John I can easily mark the passing of time if I choose to waste brain power on such an effort when it is not necessary for a case. _Sherlock thought bitterly to himself. He had spent the better part of the morning finishing his preparations of Sulfur Trioxide. He had built an apparatus earlier that week which would allow him to create a controlled test in order to determine the rate of damage that acid rain would cause to various forms of commonly used stones in masonry and sculpting.

As he finished the last process in the experiment he heard Mrs. Hudson shout his name from down stairs. Ignoring the landlady he sealed his container of SO3 and turned off the Bunsen burner. He held the flask up to light admiring the gas as it swirled around in the beaker.

"Yoo-hoo, Sherlock dear did you not hear me?" Mrs. Hudson said as she knocked on the open door. "You got a package dear." She said holding up the box in explanation of her presence.

"Ah excellent its here" Sherlock stated excitedly placing the beaker down on the mantle as he moved to yank the package out of Mrs. Hudsons hand.

"Well you could at least say thank you deary." Mrs Hudson said indignantly "I'm no spring chicken you know. You shouldn't be making me walk up all those stairs just to give you your mail and the man down stairs still wants a signature from you."

"Yes, yes" Sherlock responded absentmindedly as he happily opened the package, pulling out a mason jar with a silver liquid surrounded in a yellowish oil from the bubble wrap and packing peanuts in the box.

"Sherlock" Mrs. Hudson tried again as the genius was currently staring at the contents of the jar like a child in a candy shop.

"What is it Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock exclaimed exasperatedly placing the jar back in the box.

"Well there is no need to be rude, but the man down stairs is still waiting on your signature." She replied indignantly.

When Sherlock returned back upstairs from signing for the box he went straight back to the jar. Carrying it to the sink he figured he could do one or two small test of the exciting reaction. He place the jar down on the side of the sink as he began to search through the drawers trying to remember where he put his glass pipette again.

As he triumphantly pulled the pipette from the bread box his cell phone began to ring, it was his ringtone for Lestrade. Throwing the instrument back in the bread box he excitedly pulled out his cell phone.

"What is the address," he shouted at Lestrade. It had been so long since his last case he almost didn't care if it was a boring one.  
>"Well hello to you as well," Lestrade replied chuckling and then proceeded to give the excitable genius the details of the double homicide and what address to meet him at. Within a few minutes of finishing the call with Lestrade, Sherlock had dressed gathered his coat and was out the door of 221B Baker street. As he sat in the back of the taxi leg bouncing up in down in anticipation he sent a text to John.<p>

**Double homicide witnesses in each case but no bodies, the game is on! -SH**

John chuckled to himself at work as he read the text from his roommate. He felt a little disappointed that there was no reason for him to meet up with Sherlock but without a body he couldn't really help him yet. However, he did have a bit of paperwork to catch up on so it was probably in his best interest that he didn't go anyhow.

After another three hours catching up on paperwork John was ready to call it a day. He checked his phone for updates from Sherlock as he shut the lights off in his office. There weren't any, knowing his friend he had found a lead at the crime scene and had left on his own to hunt it down. He wished the man would at least let him know when he ran off after a lead. John was beginning to appreciate Mycroft's comment that he 'Worried constantly' about his younger brother. As he walked home John sent a quick text checking up on him.

**How is the case going should I meet you somewhere? –JW**

Sherlock's phone chirped in his pocket but as he was currently pretending to be a highly distraught friend of one of the victims he ignored the text.

John checked his phone again hardly expecting a response from his friend having dealt with him for so long. Realizing he probably wasn't going to find out any more about the case until Sherlock returned home and knowing he might be busy for an undetermined amount of time in the future he figured he should go ahead and stop by Tesco's on his way home.

John placed the large bags of groceries on the living room floor as he removed his coat placing it on the back of his chair and looking over the box lying there with some curiosity. The address appeared to be Russian in origin and the only contents listed were one jar sodium-potassium alloy (NaK), liquid form. There were instructions on all sides of the box stating Hazardous Chemical Handle with Care. John tried to remember what sodium-potassium would do but it had been a long time since his undergraduate chemistry course and he really didn't remember at the moment. He figured he would ask Sherlock when he got home later. He picked up the groceries off the floor and moved towards the kitchen. John gave an audible sigh as he saw all of the beakers and tubes and flasks on the kitchen table. Glancing at the notes that Sherlock had written on the table he saw that the end result of what ever process he was preforming was Sulfur Trioxide. Great, that one he remembered was a major precursor to sulfuric acid. He was beginning to wonder if it might be a good idea to take a refresher course in chemistry just for his own general safety living with Sherlock. Hoisting the bags of groceries up high and facing his back to the table to ensure he didn't spill any of the various unlabeled beakers and glasses of liquid any one of which apparently could contain a very strong acid john moved over to the counter by the fridge as he was maneuvering the bags he heard the distinct noise of a glass being knocked over and then a split second later the sound of a glass breaking. With a long suffering sigh he put down the groceries and took a look at what had spilled.

He thanked what little luck he had for the fact that the jar had fallen into the sink and so there was no big mess to clean up. There was some kind of greyish blob covered in yellow liquid mixed among the glass in the sink. John moved the faucet over the mess not wanting to risk using a paper towel to clean up the mess. Although he was pretty sure sulfuric acid was a brownish liquid.

A split second after John turned on the water there was a massive explosion. Startled and thrown off balance John fell backwards cracking his head on the corner of the kitchen table hitting the ground hard afterwards his right elbow absorbing most of the fall. His vision black out for a second and when it came back he saw sparks and smaller explosions erupting from the sink smaller fires were catching all over the sink. Groggily Johns last thought before he passed out was _O yea potassium reacts violently with water, yea I need to refresh my basic chemistry…_


	3. Fire!

"What is it Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock half shouted finally answering his phone after the third time his landlady had called his cell.

"SHERLOCK! Oh my god I don't know what to do I heard an explosion upstairs and I think I smell a fire. I already called the fire department but I was pretty sure I heard John come home but he hasn't come down stairs yet. Sherlock I'm not strong enough to try and go in there and find him. Where are you Sherlock!" The poor woman practically said in one breath breaking down into tears when she finished.

"Mrs. Hudson I'm on my way." Sherlock replied immediately, then remembering the large beaker of SO3 he had created and the container of NaK he had just received that day he added, "Inform the fire department that it may be a chemical fire. Do not allow them to use water on the flat Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock emphasized the last part ensuring that she understood him through her panic. Sherlock thanked his luck that he was already so close to the house.

After slamming the door shut in the taxi he had hailed Sherlock practically shouted at the man "221B Baker street if you get me there in under eight minutes I will double your pay."

"Yes Sir," The man replied with a smile proceeding to break most traffic laws along the way.

Sherlock was already ignoring him pulling out his cell phone to text Mycroft.

**Explosion at the flat John may be injured insure that he will have the best care possible when he arrives at hospital, possible chemical burns – SH**

Sherlock proceeded to glare at his cell phone for the entire minute it took for his brother to respond.

**I do have other obligations other than cleaning up your messes dear brother – MH**

**MYCROFT! – SH**

Sherlock angrily jammed his response into the keypad of his offending cellphone.

**Do not get emotional Sherlock, I will ensure that the appropriate personnel are awaiting his arrival at St Bartholomew's Hospital. -MH**

After ensuring that his brother would help his friend Sherlock attempted to call John on his cell phone but got no reply. Angrily Sherlock shut his phone He fidgeted anxiously in the back of the cab as it continued to careen through London speeding toward his possibly injured flat mate and only friend.

The vehicle hardly came to a complete stop before Sherlock was jumping out the door throwing and handful of cash at the driver. Mrs. Hudson was standing anxiously at the foot of the stairs and Sherlock could hear the fire department rounding the corner behind him.

"Has he come down stairs yet!" Sherlock shouted at Mrs Hudson as he ran up to her.

"No not yet, Sherlock its been almost ten minutes." She sobbed.

"I will get him Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock shouted over his shoulder as he sprinted up the stairs towards his and Johns apartment.

As Sherlock burst through the front door covering his mouth with his scarf unsure of what kind of fire he would find. He was happy to see that the fire was not that large but he also noticed his friends jacket laying across the back of his chair.

"JOHN!" He bellowed as he moved towards the kitchen where the smoke seemed to be coming from. When he saw the undamaged beaker of SO3 still siting on the mantle he let out an audible sigh of relief there were no toxic gases, but why was John not replying then? As he rounded the corner to the kitchen he felt as though his insides were placed in a vice. Beneath the kitchen table John was clearly unconscious with a large pool of blood ballooning out from his head. The table above him was on fire as well as some of the cabinets and the takeout menus attached to the fridge. After taking in the scene Sherlock had a pretty good understanding of what had occurred. He moved quickly to grab John and move him out from underneath the burning kitchen table. Once he had John out into the living room he began to search for the head wound, which was to blame for the large amount of blood on the floor. He found a large triangle shaped gash on the back of the skull. Quickly he removed his scarf pressing it to the injury to reduce the bleeding. Sherlock could not keep his mind from listing all the possible fatal complications that could result from head trauma. He could hear the firefighters finally barreling up the stairs.

"The fire isn't that large are the EMTs here yet?" Sherlock shouted at the men as he entered the flat.

"I'm right here," the EMT shouted pushing past the two firemen once he saw the living room was clear his partner following shortly after with the stretcher.

"We heard this was a chemical fire do you know what chemical?" One of the firemen asked moving to take a look at the kitchen but hesitating to take action until he knew what chemical he was dealing with.

"It was started with potassium and water. The containers on the table mostly contain metal bisulfate's and acids." Sherlock quickly explained as he moved out of the way so that the two paramedics could begin to take care of John.

With a nod the fireman grabbed one of the tanks they had brought up with them and began to spray dense foam on the fire in the kitchen. It only took a short amount of time before all of the fires were out. Sherlock hardly noticed though, his attention was completely focused on the actions of the two EMTs as one ensured that John was still breathing then checked for additional injuries as the other applied a bandage to Johns head wound.

"Alright he's stable lets get him down to the truck" The medic who had been checking John over stated. "Are you riding with him to hospital?" He then asked Sherlock as he hoisted his side of the stretcher.

"Yes." Sherlock replied without thinking following the two men out of the flat.

**Umm not sure if there is interest for this to continue but I will try to have the next couple of chapters up within a couple of days. Please let me know what you think. It was so much less stressful as a lurker on this site lol ^_^**


	4. Orange Blanket

"Oh John Dear" Mrs. Hudson cried bringing her hands up to cover up her mouth, "take care of him Sherlock." She said reaching out to touch Sherlock in support, as he followed the stretcher out the front door. Sherlock simply nodded his head sharply in acknowledgement.

As the two medics loaded John onto the truck he began to convulse violently. Sherlock felt as though his heart was stopping and time was slowing down. John Watson was never suppose to be the one injured he was his Doctor. Sherlock felt guilt more so than he had ever felt the emotion in his life before. His only friend the person he could always count on to take care of him was severely injured and it was his fault. His logical side attempted to protect him and argued that as an individual educated in the sciences John should have known better than to wash an unknown substance down the sink with water. However his newly discovered emotional side quickly countered that it wouldn't have even been an issue if Sherlock had just listened to John and kept his hazardous chemicals and experiments well away from the areas that they both used.

"sir….SIR!" Sherlock heard a man speaking loudly near his face and felt someone grab his shoulders. He realized that he had frozen at the back of the ambulance. One of the medics was trying to get him to move into the vehicle while the other immobilized John on the stretcher for the journey and checked the dilation of Johns pupils again.

"Hey Scott! We have uneven dilation!" The medic on the truck shouted "Either get him in here or we will have to leave him behind" The other medic shouted as he jumped out the back of the vehicle and headed around to the drivers seat.

"Sir, are you coming?" The second medic asked a look of sympathy in his eyes as he gave Sherlock a slight pull towards the truck.

Thankfully, Sherlock thought, his feet responded to the small amount of donated inertia and began to move him towards the vehicle. Climbing in behind the medic and taking a seat across from John he was glad to see that his friend had at least stopped convulsing.

The vehicle began to speed away the instant the EMT shut the rear doors of the vehicle.

The man began to quickly move around John checking the monitors that were already connected and prepping the man so that he would be able to receive intravenous fluids and blood once he arrived at hospital. Once this was complete the medic looked towards Sherlock with that same sympathetic look again.

"Sir, Do you know this man well enough to know if he has any previous head trauma or any dangerous medical allergies/conditions we should be aware of immediately?" The man asked quickly but with the clear practice of someone used to dealing with distraught friends and family members. Sherlock began to slowly shake his head 'no', then realizing that wasn't a sufficient answer began to stutter, "n..no…he doesn't have any allergies. I…I know he was injured during his time in the military but I don't believe… I don't think there was any head trauma." Sherlock was startled to hear the lack of certainty in his own voice. He knew he cared a great deal about John but he had never imagined that the man had this level of an affect on his ability to function. He began to wonder at what point he had become so dependent on the stability that the Doctors presence brought him.

The next few moments were filled with relative silence other than the beeping of the monitors attached to John and the flow of oxygen from his mask. The EMT moved efficiently around John monitoring his reactions and vitals. When John began to reflexively grab at the wires and lines attached to him the EMT moved to hold his wrists down. Glancing at Sherlock who was staring straight ahead looking lost the EMT cleared his throat. "Sir could I get your help in keeping your friend still." He asked kindly gesturing to where he was applying gentle pressure to John's wrists. Sherlock hesitantly moved closer to John and clasped on to his wrists. He felt slightly reassured as he felt the steady heart beat of Johns pulse under his hands. 'John was still alive' he held onto that fact like a lifeline. The EMT proceeded to pretend to look around in a box nearby to justify having Sherlock help secure John.

The remainder of the ride was relatively uneventful. John still had not opened his eyes but he was responding to physical stimuli and every now and then he would moan in pain. When they arrived at St. Barth's everything took off at a world wind pace around Sherlock the medics were wheeling John out the back of the truck shouting explanations to the ER doctors waiting by the door as they moved. Sherlock caught snippets of conversation but none of it registered to him.

"Glasgow scale of 7…"

"Single incident of convulsions…"

"Possible intracranial pressure…"

"Significant blood loss upon arrival…"

Their voices faded away as they moved quickly through a set of double doors. A nurse stopped Sherlock as he attempted to follow them.

"I'm sorry sir but he is being taken to surgery you will need to wait out in the waiting room." She said gently.

"No I need to make sure he is alright!" Sherlock half shouted at the woman. "You don't understand this is my fault." He nearly sobbed or as close to sobbing as Sherlock Holmes could come.

The woman gave him a gentle smile and placed a hand on his shoulder gently steering him towards the waiting room.

Another nurse came up to him with a clipboard and in a voice one would use with a small child explained. "Sir right now the best thing you can do is to let the Doctors have their space so that they can help your friend as quickly as possible. If you want to help you can fill out his medical history so that the Doctors have the most accurate information possible to work from." She smiled sweetly pushing the clipboard in front of him with the questionnaire.

Sherlock yanked the clipboard out of her hands. "I'm well aware of the purpose of a medical questionnaire," he shot back with venom attempting to regain some level of normalcy in this traumatic situation.

He felt a firm hand grasp onto his shoulder.

"Brother of mine do try to behave yourself. I told you I would ensure that John received the absolute best care upon his arrival and this woman is simply trying to do her job." He heard the steady cool voice of his older brother over his shoulder.

"Come I've arranged a private room for John which he will be brought to as soon as he is out of Surgery you can wait there." His brother stated and then with an assessing glance at his brother he added, "and perhaps wash up."

Sherlock became aware of the fact that his hands and pants were covered with Johns blood and at some point he had regained his scarf and was grasping it tightly in his hands. The fabric was already beginning to become rigid with the drying blood. Sherlock's eyes widened at the sight and simply stared at the offending object. In all his years as a consulting detective he had seen numerous gruesome crime scenes and none of them had ever really affected him but this was different. The realization that he was covered in John Watson's blood threw the tall genius into shock and one of the most brilliant minds on the planet simply shutdown.

The world around Sherlock began to fade into a haze as his mind retreated within itself. He felt someone gently pry the scarf from his grasp. Then slowly guide him down the hallways of the hospital. He didn't really see where he was going he smelled the disinfectant smell of the hospital and heard brief moments of the background noise of the hospital around him. Sherlock was practically in a walking comatose state of shock.

Had Sherlock been aware of anything happening around him he would have seen the brief micro-expression of concern cross his brother's features as he pulled the scarf from his hand instructing his secretary to ensure that the item was cleaned thoroughly. He then calmly guided his brother by the shoulders to the private room he had mentioned. Mycroft helped Sherlock remove his trench coat and then guided his brother to the sink in the small bathroom. Tenderly he washed the blood off of his brother's hands. Another brief micro expression of sadness crossing his face as he watched the pink water run down the sink; knowing his brother would blame himself for this accident. Mycroft knew by looking into his brother's eyes that the younger man had retreated into the safety of his mind palace in order to deal with the shock. Once his brothers hands were cleaned of blood Mycroft sat him down on the comfortable couch he had provided for the room knowing his brother would probably not leave John Watson's side once he was out of surgery. Safe in the knowledge that his brother was unaware of his surroundings and they were alone in the room Mycroft Holmes gave his little brother a soft smile and a brotherly pat to the head.

"Rest Sherl's" he whispered, "I'll take care of everything." And with that the calm cool collected face of the British Government returned and the man swept silently from he room clipboard in hand with the forms on John's medical history.

**so still trying to figure out how to properly do these authors notes but I am not sure if I should leave this as a friends fic or turn it into a pre-slash let me know which you think is the better option. Also I like to believe as cool and unemotional as Mycroft acts he really does care deeply for his little brother. Hope you all like how this is going I haven't written this much since I was little I forgot how much I use to enjoy it. **


	5. Emergency Contact

As Sherlock sank into his mind palace he found himself watching the memories of his time living and working with John Watson stream across his consciousness. He constructed a home theater around himself and the images continued to play on the newly imagined big screen in front of him. However, as he began to get comfortable the images turned from random images to images of all the times that John almost died. Sherlock felt trapped in his seat he felt his heart rate and breathing began to increase, his hands began to sweat profusely. He tried to wipe them on his trousers but it didn't feel like sweat. When he looked down he saw that his hands were soaked in blood and he had left red smears on his legs when he had attempted to wipe them off. The more he tried to clean the blood the more it seemed to seep from his skin itself. He looked down at his feet when he felt moisture working its way into his socks. He saw a crimson liquid rising up from the ground. It was one of the few times in Sherlock's life when his mind palace had turned against him. He was no longer in a home theater he was in a dark empty room that was slowly filling with blood and there appeared to be no exits. _O god he was going to drown in John's blood, he had to get out he had to leave_. He began to move around the room frantically in search of an exit. The blood was up to his waste now and the sharp metal tang of its smell and the way it clung to his body was beginning to make him nauseous.

"…Sherl's…" He thought he heard his older brothers voice drift towards him as if on the wind. He whipped his head around towards the direction the voice had came from and found a door. Ripping the door open Sherlock sprinted from the room. He felt completely out of control of the images confronting him in his own mind palace. He could still feel his shoes squishing beneath him still soaked with blood and he dared not look down at his hands again. He attempted to bring to focus doors to rooms like he normally did to move through his mind palace but it wouldn't work. He searched for a room he knew was devoid of emotions, he focused on his current experiments room but could not see it in the hallway. The hallway morphed around him into an alleyway. He thought about his rooms on cigar ash and bullet fragmentation patterns but they would not appear either. _I need to get away he thought I need….I need somewhere safe._ He nearly screamed internally. He felt as though if he slowed his pace the blood would over take him in a wave and drown him. Then like a lightning bolt it hit him, _HOME!_ Just as quickly his surrounds turned into a street he turned a corner and found himself on Baker Street. He sprinted for the entrance to 221B. Sherlock burst through the mental door sprinting up the stairs and into his flat, their flat his and John's. Right in front of him sitting in his arm chair as though nothing was wrong was John Watson reading the evening paper. _JOHN! _Sherlock mentally cried out collapsing at his friends feet. _I am so sorry, it is all my fault. I should have…I should have listened. Had I just labeled my things…or kept my experiments out of the kitchen…you…you wouldn't be hurt. I am so sorry. _He half sobbed into John's leg showing emotions that he could only show within the safest confines of his own mind palace. _I'm so sorry John. _He repeated over and over again.

"Sherlock…" He heard his own mental projection of John's whisper above him and felt a hand gently on card through his hair. Sherlock stopped his chant hesitating for a moment and then slowly lifting his head to make eye contact with his friend. John gave him that beaming smile of his and said echoing his words from early in their friendship. "It's fine Sherlock, It's all fine."

With a gasp Sherlock's eyes burst open. He was sitting on a couch in a hospital room his coat was draped over the armrest and his hands were thankfully devoid of any blood. _And Mycroft says that I'm too sentimental. _Sherlock thought after deducing what had occurred while he was in his mind palace. Glancing at his watch he realized that it had been about half an hour since John was carried off to the operating theater. Pulling out his phone Sherlock quickly typed out a text.

**Where is the operating room, I want to know as soon as he is out of surgery. –SH**

After a brief pause the phone vibrated with a response.

**There is an operating theater if you wish to watch the remainder of the procedure. Tell the man outside the door he will show you where to go. –MH**

Sherlock shut his phone and stood up with his usual dramatic flourish. He found a man stood just outside his door looking like every other nameless face who followed around Mycroft.

"My brother informs me that you can take me to the room they have John in" Sherlock stated in his usual calm detached voice. His brief respite in his mind palace had allowed him to reapply his mask of the cold calculating sociopath. Inside though he was still shaken to the core and he wasn't sure as he began to follow the man down the hall if he would be able to enter the actual operating theater and watch the doctors work on John.

"Its just through there Sir." The man informed Sherlock as they stopped in front of door to the operating theater. Since St. Barth's was a teaching hospital several of their operating rooms had theaters located above them or to the side that allowed people to watch the ongoing procedures. Sherlock hesitated once he was on the other side of the door, not quite sure if he could bear to move close enough to see what lay on the other side of the window across the room. Surveying the dimly lit room he was surprised to see his brother umbrella in hand standing at the window observing the proceedings in the room below.

After a moment Mycroft began to speak. "His condition really isn't that bad Sherlock. The current operation is removing the subdural hematoma, which formed at the skull fracture. The doctors informed me that his intracranial pressure is currently high but is not yet in the danger area and if they act quickly it is likely that Mr. Watson's injury will be classified as a moderate traumatic brain injury. As is typical of their profession they did not want to speculate yet at recovery rates or possible long-term effects but they are hopeful. They have just finished the intubation and are about to drill a hole in the skull in order to drain the hematoma. After this is complete they will return him to the room. He will be regularly monitored after that to insure that his intracranial pressure is stabilizing." Mycroft finished continuing to look into the operating room allowing his brother the privacy he needed to either decide to move forward and watch at the window or take a seat in one of the chairs along the sidewalls. After a few moments he heard his brother slowly move up the window beside him. The two Holmes brothers stood like sentinels unmoving as they watched the operation unfold in the room below them. Mycroft felt the briefest pang of empathy pull at his heart when he saw his brother flinch out of the corner of his eye, after the whirring of the bone drill started up in the room below. It was the tiniest of movements imperceptible to anyone who was not a Holmes, but still there.

Once the main procedure was complete the head surgeon looked up at the window and nodded at the two brothers signaling he was on his way up. He left the anesthesiologist and the nurses to finish reversing the paralytics and sedatives in Johns system and bandage up his head. Sherlock continued to watch the room below unable to pull his attention away from John wanting the visual assurance that his friend was still alive. His mind was still taunting him with periodic flashes of John on the ground surrounded by fire with a large pool of blood blossoming from his head.

The head surgeon cleared his throat behind Sherlock to get his attention. "Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson listed you as his emergency contact." The man began. Sherlock whirled around at this information in shock. He had assumed that the hospital had been providing himself and his brother with information on John's progress simply because his brother had used his influence. He never suspected that John would trust him to be his emergency contact.

"His sister…?" Was the only questioning response that he could manage.

The Surgeon took another cursory glance at the clipboard in his hand. "No you are the one he has listed as his primary contact…Sherlock Holmes." He read off the sheet. "Actually I see no mention of a sister on here at all. Should we be contacting her?"

"I don't have her information and if John did not list her then he does not want her to know when he is injured." Sherlock responded. "How was the surgery?" He asked attempting to get the conversation back on topic.

"Ah yes, the procedure was a textbook removal of a subdural hematoma. Dr. Watson was lucky to have been so close to St. Barth's, we have one of the leading neurosurgical departments in Britain. In addition, the fact that Dr. Watson's injuries are relatively localized should also cause his recovery to be fairly quick. The actual damage to the skull was minimal in this case but the force of the break caused some damage to the meninges. It was necessary to drill a hole through the skull in order to drain the layer of blood which was forming underneath the skull as a result of this fracture. Since Dr. Watson was brought to the hospital shortly after the injury and there will hopefully be minimal damage caused as a result. However, it is important to remember we are talking about an injury to the brain so Dr. Watson's could experience a wide range of symptoms. Medically we divide these effects up into five major categories; physical, cognitive, sensory, perceptual, and social-emotional symptoms. Dr. Watson arrived with a surprisingly low Glasgow scale reading considering the size of the skull fracture and force involved during injury. Although other factors such as previous head injuries while deployed and the secondary impact with the ground during the accident could have played a part. What we hope to see over the next several hours is a marked improvement on the Glasgow scale with the reduction of intracranial pressure. If his ICP doesn't reduce it may become necessary to do a more drastic surgery if this is necessary I will be Dr. Watson's surgeon again. Otherwise my colleague Dr. Barlow will conduct the remainder of his care."

The surgeon relayed the information in a way not to dissimilar from Sherlock's own restrained excited ramblings when he was aware of the fact that the subject matter which he found highly fascinating left others feeling uncomfortable. He was beginning to understand now why some family members had punched him when he finished talking. Sherlock simply nodded his head in response to the surgeons explanations and turned back to the window looking down on John dismissing the man from his presence. How_ could he have forgotten about the possibility of brain damage when a head wound was involved._ He berated himself, he had been so focused on if John would live but he hadn't considered the possibility that he could have permanently altered _who _John is. As Sherlock looked down at the still man lying in the bed below him with patches of his hair shaved and large swaths of bandage around his head there was one all consuming thought spinning around in his head.

_What if John Watson lost whatever it was about his personality that allowed him to tolerate living with Sherlock Holmes._

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**_I am working to try and do longer chapters with this but I also like to keep the chapter changes at logical locations. Also I apologize in advance if it takes a couple of days before I am able to post the next update. Please feel free to give me any kind of feedback you have negative constructive criticism will only help improve my writing. Thanks a bunch to those who have followed my story, I'm only really continuing with this because of you guys ^_^._**


	6. Please Don't Change

Sherlock watched as they pushed the gurney next to Johns operating table and the nursing staff began the process of transferring John from one bed to the other. Swiftly turning on his heels Sherlock moved to return to Johns room. As he opened the door and moved into the hallway of the hospital his pace faltered. He couldn't remember which way he had come from in the maze of hospital hallways. Since he was a teen the only time that Sherlock's subconcious had not constantly mapped his location in the world was during his period of heavy drug use.

Not acknowledging his brothers split second of hesitance Mycroft moved past his him heading towards John's room. He did not spare a glance back as he walked briskly past Sherlock. Within a moment Sherlock was less than a pace behind Mycroft. An outside observer would have been incapable of noticing that either of the parties involved were unsure of where they were going.

The two men stood in silence for a moment once they reached the room. The nursing staff had yet to return with John. As usual neither of their thoughts reached their faces. The buzzing of Mycroft's phone in his pocket broke the silence, he checked the message and quickly typed a short reply.

"Well I can no longer linger here," he informed his younger brother twirling his umbrella once.

Sherlock made no motion to acknowledge that he had heard his brother. With a short nod of his head Mycroft turned and left the room. The tapping of his umbrella on the linoleum floor could be heard fading away as he moved down the hall. Once the door shut again Sherlock deflated collapsing with a long suffering sigh onto the couch. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to process the last five hours. It felt as though it had been both the longest and shortest five hours of his entire life. He was not given a long respite, however because within a minute the nursing staff was pushing Johns gurney into the room and bustling about as they set up his IV drip, heart rate and oxygen monitors. None of the nurses paid any mind to Sherlock who had stood awkwardly when they entered the room. Once everything was set up and in place all of the nurses except one left the room. The last nurse grabbed the clipboard at the foot of John's bed and made a couple of notes and then turned to address Sherlock.

"Dr. Watson is in stable condition now but should there be any sort of emergency there is a nurse call button here." She said pointing to the device. "Although all of the monitors are equipped with automatic alarms if certain key measurements drop below acceptable values. A nurse will be coming in every 10 minutes for the first hour to monitor if there is any change to his performance to ensure that there are no more signs of high intracranial pressure. The surgeon chose not to utilize an invasive ICP monitor since his bleed wasn't severe. Your brother has cleared you to be able to stay after visiting hours so you are fine to stay in here for the night." The woman continued in a reassuring voice with a kind smile. Sherlock simply nodded his head curtly in response.

"Alright well the nurses desk is right out the door and down the hallway to the left so if you need anything just let us know." The nurse replied while putting back the clipboard and leaving the room.

Sherlock was left to finally face the full extent of John's situation alone for the first time since this all began. He began to feel as though that wave of blood was bearing down on him again. His hands began to sweat and the sound of the monitors seemed to slowly increase in volume until it was a cacophony of mechanical whirs and electronic beeps assaulting his eardrums. In the back of his mind his ever-logical side listed his symptoms: _intense feeling of dread, sweating, increased heart rate, difficulty breathing, nausea; you are having a panic attack. Solution: find something to anchor yourself and regulate breathing. _Sherlock attempted to match his breathing to the slow steady beats of Johns heart rate monitor. However, he could not shake the sense of dread bearing down on him and his racing heart. John just looked so…not John, wrapped up in bandages with a tube sticking out of his mouth. Then Sherlock remembered the ride to the hospital when the EMT had asked him to hold Johns arms down. Hesitantly he moved towards the bed placing two fingers over John's radial pulse point. He again matched his breathing to John's heart rate but found that this time his heart followed John's lead and began to slow down to a much more appropriate level. With an audible sigh Sherlock pulled the chair closer to the bed and prepared to begin his long vigil. He kept his hand clasped around John's wrist, rested his check on his arm and watched Johns chest rise and fall.

He quietly whispered. "I am sorry John, please don't change."

347 beats of John's heart later and the nurse came in for the first check up on John. Sherlock sat up and discreetly moved his hand off of John's wrist. It was the same nurse who had given Sherlock an idea of what to expect for the next few hours. He noticed that her name tag stated Nurse Karen.

"Hey" She said with a caring smile as she pulled the pin light out of her pocket moving to the other side of John to check his pupil dilation.

"John can you hear me?" She asked in a regular tone, "If you can I need you to try and move." She paused for a second to watch his body. Next she pulled a pin from her pocket pricking one of his fingers. Lethargically John's hand moved away from the pain. Sherlock watched all of this with rapt attention.

"What does that mean, is he recovering, getting worse?" Sherlock asked managing to keep his voice level if not moderately paced.

"Honestly, there isn't much of a change yet and really he is still recovering from the anesthesia used during his surgery." She replied with a good-natured chuckle. "Based on your friends condition we can expect him to need minimal assistance from the intubation within the next half hour. He is receiving a sedative so the tube will cause him minimal irritation. I believe the surgeon wanted to leave him intubated until he was fully awake incase of any complications." She said checking herself with the clipboard. Sherlock nodded his head storing the information in the newly created 'Important Medical Information Regarding John' room within his mind palace.

Pausing at the door before leaving Nurse Karen turned back to Sherlock. "If he wakes up while a nurse isn't in here just let him know not to try and talk, and explain to him why he has a tube in his throat he may be confused."

Sherlock returned his hand to John's wrist again once the door clicked behind her. Another 10 minutes or 490 beats of John's heart, as Sherlock was beginning to measure the passing of time by this measurement now, passed quietly. This time a different nurse came in with a silent node and went about her duties without addressing Sherlock. _I prefer this one; Nurse…Christine _Sherlock thought reading the name off of her badge as he followed her movements around John. The cycle continued three more times with a different nurse each time until it was again Nurse Karen who came through the door.

"Still awake then I see," She said with a smile to Sherlock carrying in four new IV bags with her. "Don't worry after this one we will leave you alone for a bit," She chuckled. "Dr. Watson is quite the fighter," She said as she began to replace the old IV bags with the new ones and checking the main line to the cannula inserted in the back of John's right hand. "He is improving at a good pace. His reactions to stimuli are now an appropriate speed, he is displaying increased eye movement, and his breathing has normalized. All he needs to do now is open his eyes and we will be over the first hurdle." She said with genuine happiness in her voice. _Alright maybe she isn't that bad_ Sherlock thought smiling back at her in response to her description of John as a fighter. _That's John my Army Doctor_ Sherlock thought with pride. Then pausing for a second in realization at his use of the possessive. He placed that thought in the also newly created room 'Things to Analyze Once John is Better'.

"What are in those?" Sherlock asked pointing towards the four new bags hanging from John's IV pole.

"One is the sedative for the intubation, that I mentioned earlier, one is a medication to help reduce intracranial pressure, and one is pain medication. The last one is your typical nutrients and fluids IV." She said point to each one in turn. Sherlock nodded his head in appreciation for the information.

"Well make sure you actually get some rest." Nurse Karen reminded him as she updated John's clipboard and left the room.

After she left Sherlock resumed the position he had held for the better part of the last hour. After the first completely uninterrupted half hour passed Sherlock's leg began to bounce in anticipation. _John should be waking up soon. Then I can apologize and we can go home and leave this hospital and everything will be back to normal._ Sherlock thought then as an after thought,_ except I will label every experiment I ever do in the future and keep them only in my room. _

After another hour Sherlock began to pace the room his eyes locked on John's face the entire time. _He should have woken up by now! This is a bad sign. Something is going to be wrong. He is going to want to leave. He will hate me. What if I have made him less intelligent than he already was? He will be so boring I will have to leave! _Sherlock shouted internally. After a few more minutes and rather a few laps around the room he thought. _Although John was never really an idiot and never, never boring. _Sherlock noted that his mouth had arranged itself into a half smile with the thought. As someone with little experience with emotion he imagined what he was feeling now was close to a since of endearment for the older man. Another addition to the 'Analyze Later' room, there seemed to be quite a few additions to that room tonight.

After another forty-five minutes of waiting Sherlock was practically in a low hover about the room. He would go from lying down on the couch in his thinking position, to pacing around the room, to back in the chair holding John's wrist leg bouncing wildly, to pacing again while pulling on his hair, then back to the couch again to simply glare at John as though he was taking so long to wake up for the pure amusement of tormenting Sherlock. Which to be honest if John did really have any control over it he would be highly tempted to do.

Sherlock was again pacing the room and pulling on his hair mumbling angrily at himself for being such an idiot and leaving the jar so close to edge of the sink he froze when he thought he heard a rustling sound coming from John's bed. Looking over he saw that John's hand was twitching like someone rousing from a dream. Sherlock practically leapt to the side of the bed staring into John's face willing him to open his eyes.

Slowly John opened his eyes. His eyes blinked slowly coming to focus and then making contact with Sherlock's eyes.

"JOHN!" Sherlock practically shouted. Then in a whisper after John flinched in response to his volume. "John, you have a tube in your throat to help with breathing don't try to talk I'll call the nurses." Sherlock pressed the call button as he said this. John simply continued to stare at him blinking occasionally.

"John I am so so sorry. This is all my fault you were right I shouldn't have been doing experiments in the kitchen. I am so glad that you are awake I feel as if it has taken you years to wake up. You haven't been in a comma for years of course its only been a couple of hours." Sherlock rambled. Then noticing that John hadn't really moved much since he started talking other than simply blinking and following Sherlocks face he paused. "John can you understand what I'm saying? Blink if you can understand me." Sherlock asked, panic beginning to settle in his stomach. However, before he could get a response the two nurse on call came though the door quickly moving to John to assess his condition. The man and woman moved quickly and efficiently around John performing the extubation. John coughed slightly as the female nurse suctioned fluids from his throat before attaching an oxygen mask over Johns nose and mouth.

"Dr. Watson how are you feeling?" The male nurses asked. "Can you blink a couple of times for me if you understand what I'm saying." The nurse said in a kind slow voice. At first John appeared to be responding but it was soon clear that his eyelids had simply grown heavy with exhaustion and he had fallen back asleep.

"John," Sherlock attempted "please blink if you can understand me." Sherlock pleaded with the other man. John slowly opened his eyes briefly looked around the room and fell back asleep.

"He is just exhausted right now," The man explained. "Let him get a little more rest and we will try again. Its normal for patients to be a bit disoriented when they first come out of coma." He explained gently updating Johns chart.

"Dr. Barlow will be coming in at 7:30. She is a great Doctor and she will be able to explain to you what to expect in the next couple of days." The female nurse said trying to reassure a loved one she could tell was extremely worried now. "Just let us know again if he wakes up." She said on her way out the door.

"You should try to get some rest as well." The male nurse said with a half smile as he left.

Sherlock remained were he was the entire time they were talking to him. His face was still starring at Johns in slight disbelief that his friend hadn't comprehended what he was being told. _John always does what I ask of him if I actually say please. Does this mean that John has changed? What if he honestly couldn't understand what we were saying._ Sherlock's mind kept circling around more and more negative thoughts. His photographic memory supplying him with stored images and videos of individuals suffering from mental impairment after serious trauma and the difficulties they could have with day to day tasks. _I don't know if I could forgive myself if John were brain damaged because of my actions. _He thought as he sat down to hold John's wrist again not even consciously thinking about the action anymore. He glanced at his watch it was nearly four in the morning. _Ugh he thought its been over 8 1/2 hours since this all started._ He rested his head on his other arm again so that he could watch John's chest rise and fall with each breath that he breathed on his own now. The combined sensation of feeling John's pulse and watching his breathes began to slowly ease the tension out of Sherlocks body and mind. Half asleep already he thought; _I think if John is broken, I will take care of him. Sherlock Holmes was asleep a moment later. Had he still been conscious that thought alone would have taken up an entire section of the 'Analyze Later' room._

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**Hey guys so thank you again to everyone who chose to follow this story or add it to their favorites. You guys are my motivation. I'm trying to get you longer chapters.**

**Also I am not in any way trained in most of this medical stuff. I do try to do research because I like stories to sound right but if anyone has experience with this stuff and realizes something is off with what I wrote please let me know for my own education and so I can update the story. **

**Critical reviews are much appreciated ^_^ or if there are any interested Beta readers that would be awesome too. **


	7. The Doctor's Doctor

Sherlock woke with a jolt as his hand slapped down onto the mattress he was resting his head on. He sat up immediately. _John is awake, _he thought eagerly. However as his eyes focused he saw that John was currently trying to pull the cannula out of his right hand, scratching lethargically at the edge of the medical tape holding it in place. Sherlock moved into action quickly, grabbing Johns hands and forcing them to his sides. The heart rate monitor beside the bed began to pick up its pace.

"John, you need to leave that alone it's supplying you with important medication." Sherlock said with a slow authoritative voice. Looking to John's face he discovered that his eyes were still shut. Rather than calming down John began to thrash about on the bed kicking his legs and moaning loudly. An alarm went off on the heart rate monitor as John's heart rate shot up.

"JOHN! You have to calm down." Sherlock shouted to no avail. He thought he heard John mumbling under the mask, it reminded him of John's PTSD induced nightmares. Relaxing the amount of restraint he was applying to John's wrists he tried again. "John, it's Sherlock, you're safe, you're in the hospital. I need you to calm down. Just take deep breathes and focus on the sound of my voice." Sherlock said in a loud but calm tone of voice.

A nurse burst through the door behind Sherlock but he was busy watching John his movements had decreased somewhat and his heart rate was beginning to stabilize.

"That's it John just calm down everything is going to be alright" Sherlock said slowly and calmly. John finally began to still, relaxing into the mattress with his head turned to face the direction of Sherlock's voice.

"Looks like you've got it under control," The nurse behind him said with an adrenaline filled chuckle, placing the protective cap back on the syringe of sedative he had brought with him. He moved to update the chart at the foot of John's bed.

"John are you awake can you hear me?" Sherlock said ignoring the nurse. "Go ahead and open your eyes John." The nurse moved to the other side of John checking over his vitals and ensuring that he hadn't pulled loose of any of the monitors or IV lines. John did not seem to react to either party; he appeared to have returned to a deep sleep again. Sherlock stopped restraining him and watched John's face for a moment longer, willing him to open his eyes. When he looked up Sherlock noticed that the nurse was giving him a fond smile. He followed the man's gaze to where his right hand was still gently resting on John's pulse point. He let his hand fall back to his side ignoring the man's slight frown at the action.

"I know this is frustrating, but he really is showing a considerable amount of improvement," He reassured him as he returned to his duties.

Sherlock continued to stand watching John's eyes for any flicker of movement. However, when he caught himself reaching out for John's wrist again he moved to sit on the couch this time. _I need to break this habit I have formed. John will surely think of it as 'not good' since he does not like 'to give people reason to talk' as he says, regarding our friendship. _Sherlock thought to him self, struggling to ignore how cold his right hand now felt without the reassurance of John's pulse underneath it. Sherlock exhaled forcefully as he ran his hands over his face and checked his watch. It was only 4:23am he had only slept for twenty minutes but now his heart was racing again and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. He placed his hands together under his nose and assumed his thinking position, contemplating what recent events meant with regards to John's health. The room stilled with the only sounds coming from the machinery, which was monitoring John's health.

Sherlock continued to order and process data for the next half an hour. _I need more information. _He internally growled in frustration as he pulled his cell phone out in his typical melodramatic flourish. He proceeded to spend the next two hours researching; head injuries, traumatic brain injuries, coma, and likely recovery rates of patients, until his phone beeped warning him that his battery was critically low.

**Mycroft need cell charger –SH **

He angrily typed into his phone before it turned off on him. Then considering how frustrating it had been conducting his research on a cell phone he added.

**Bring my laptop as well –SH**

After a few moments he watched with a frustrated sigh as his cell phone powered itself off.

With nothing to distract him he began to fidget again. He had constantly been checking on John throughout his research and the other man had barely moved since the episode earlier. The research itself hadn't really helped his level of stress either. Every website itemized a laundry list of possible symptoms with the constant addition that it was highly difficult to predict a patients level of impairment. The research also allowed Sherlock to discover just how bad John's condition could have been had he not received treatment as quickly as he did. One journal had listed that for patients with a GCS of 5-7 patients had a 53% chance of dying or ending up in a vegetative state. Without the surgery to remove the subdural hematoma and the medication that was reducing his intracranial pressure John's chances would have decreased even lower.

Sherlock buried his face in his hands desperately trying to tamp down the swelling sense of guilt and self-loathing. Everyone assumed that Sherlock was completely devoid of the ability to feel emotions but this wasn't true. What he possessed was a skill, gained at a very young age, to take his emotions and force them into the basement of his mind palace where he kept all the memories he had chosen to 'delete'. Yes, John was right when he stated that the human mind didn't work like a hard drive with the ability to delete memory. However, you could build barriers and as far as Sherlock was concerned everything in that basement had never existed.

Sherlock let out a frustrated huff of air as he tugged at his hair going through his mental routine that allowed him to compress the emotions and chuck them into the basement of his mind palace. Even with the difficulty he was currently having the entire process only took a matter of seconds.

A few moments after Sherlock had settled back into his position of restless waiting he heard a light rap at the door followed by a woman entering the room clipboard in hand. She looked over John laying in the bed, a micro expression of genuine sadness flittering across her face, before she turned towards the couch. Sherlock watched her taking in the details of her appearance before she had even turned towards him. She had dark brown hair pulled tightly back into a bun and was wearing a professional grey suit with a skirt of modest length and comfortable dress shoes. Over top of that she wore her white Doctor's coat with a neat row of pens aligned by height sticking out of her pocket. She was wearing a wedding ring on her hand; not a huge diamond, but not a small one either.

"Dr. Barlow" Sherlock greeted as he stood to shake her hand. He noted a small dusting of white powder located around her wrists. As his mind automatically put the details he had observed together he stored the information as intriguing but decided that at the moment John was the priority.

"You must be Mr. Holmes," She said with a practiced smile. "Would you like to take a seat and we will discuss Johns current condition and what events may arise in the future." She said gesturing towards the couch.

Once they were seated she took a brief pause to collect her thoughts and then began. "Mr. Holmes your friend has suffered what is known as a traumatic brain injury or TBI. Based off of the fact that his coma has lasted over eight hours and he had a GCS or Glasgow coma score of 7 when he arrived his TBI is going to be categorized as either a moderate or severe case." She paused to let that sink in. "Now, Dr. Watson is doing remarkably well, based off of what occurred earlier tonight he almost scored a 10 on the GCS. A patient is considered no longer in a coma once we can consistently observe a GCS of 9 or higher." Sherlock nodded his head in understanding, having already found most of this information online. "Mr. Holmes it is important to understand that the next several days to weeks are going to be very challenging not only for Dr. Watson but for you as well. I know that the general public tends to believe that coming out of a coma is similar to the movies but there isn't a magical moment were the patient opens their eyes and is completely back to their old self. Putting aside for the moment the possibility of long term symptoms all patients will experience a period of post-traumatic amnesia after they first wake up. This means not only will he be missing some memories from before the accident but he will also be unable to properly store memories for a time. He may repeat questions or not recall things that have just been explained. He will have attention problems as well and based on the location of his injury possibly some vision problems. In addition, the injury and healing process can cause a 'chemical storm' as it were within the brain causing emotional difficulties as well." She paused preparing to breach a more uncomfortable topic. "With all this in mind it is necessary that I ask Mr. Holmes what is the nature of your relationship with Dr. Watson." Dr. Barlow quickly uttered clearly not as comfortable with the emotional as she was with the medical.

"Contrary to what the media likes to surmise Dr. Watson and I are simply roommates and colleagues." Sherlock replied with his usual lack of emotion. Internally he was partially amused as he could picture Watson frustrated and grumbling 'Not a Couple!'. For a brief millisecond he recalled another emotion accompanying those memories but he quickly returned the information to the basement of his mind palace to be forgotten. Returning to the conversation at hand he replied. "I fail to see what relevance that fact has to Dr. Watson's condition."

"I'm sorry, I do not wish to offend, what I mean is that the family and friends of an individual who has suffered a traumatic brain injury are an integral part of the recovery plan and can help improve the patients rate of recovery and chances for a full recovery. Essentially what I mean is you need to figure out soon if you are going to be willing to commit fully to Dr. Watson's recovery. If not it might be better for Dr. Watson to be assigned a full time caregiver by the hospital so that he does not suffer any unnecessary emotional stress during his recovery." She finished gaining confidence toward the end reassured in the knowledge that she was acting in her patient's best interest.

_She didn't think we were in a relationship. __She believes I am a machine and will be incapable of providing John with the care and support his condition will require. _With that realization a rage built up in Sherlock with such speed and force as to over take his mental safety measures against the display of emotions.

"I assure you Dr. Barlow I'm not so cruel as to abandon my friend when he needs me most." Sherlock snarled unable to keep the venom from his voice. Then with an angry sneer he added. "Did the desire to leave ever cross your mind when your family member was recovering from their injury." As his logical mind finally began to reign in his emotions he knew that John would deem his comment 'not good'.

Dr. Barlow who had lowered her gaze in shame at Sherlock's first statement jerked her head to look at Sherlock more directly after the second. The shock, pain, and anger were written all over her face.

"NO! of course not," She spat with the same amount of intensity Sherlock had. Then realizing the point he had been trying to make her anger deflated. "of course not…but how…how did you know?" She said quietly.

Sherlock having completely suppressed his emotions again, proceeded to rapidly list his deductions. "Your clothing and appearance informed me that you are a very professional individual who believes in looking the part as well. Based on the pens in your pocket I determined that you are highly organized bordering on the compulsive. The combination of these two means that you have your morning schedule down to a science and do not simply sleep in. So then why are you here almost an hour later than the nurse said you would arrive? The logical assumption would be that you saw another patient first but then your clipboard disproved that. John's file is the top page and yet there is no crease along the top edge of the paper from having been folded back in order to view the papers underneath. Then we come to your wrists. They have traces of cornstarch powder arranged in a fashion that one finds after an individual has removed powdered medical gloves. Now since I had concluded already that you haven't seen any other patients yet then why would you have already worn and disposed of a pair of medical gloves. The only conclusion is that you were wearing them while treating someone at your own home. Finally the look you gave John as you entered the room was similar to that of an individual being forced to relive a painful memory. Putting all this information together I concluded that you currently have a family member living at home who has recently suffered a significant injury." Sherlock quickly and succinctly listed.

"…I'm…I'm not sure what to say. I guess the newspapers didn't exaggerate your skills." Dr. Barlow chuckled mirthlessly then after a pause she added in a quieter voice. "Its my husband, James. He is…he was a cop. He was attacked while patrolling by a man with a hunting knife. He stabbed James multiple times before his partner was able to knock the man unconscious. When James' partner tried to help him back to the panda car, he…he couldn't move his legs. The blade had caused damage to his spin paralyzing him from the waist down." She struggled to explain. "James still requires a moderate amount of at home care." She finished choosing not to go into detail regarding what health complications delayed her this morning.

Sherlock wished he had managed to reign in his anger at being accused of not being a good friend to John. He hadn't really intended to make the woman relive what was probably the worst night of her life. _This is exactly why people consider you cruel. _He berated himself.

"I…I admit that deduction was probably in the category of things I should have kept to myself." Sherlock stated giving the closest thing to an apology he could offer. "John generally stops me before I share those kind of deductions" He added quietly realizing that fact should probably also be added to the ever growing 'analyze later' room.

Dr. Barlow gave him an understanding smile in response. The two of them shared a quiet moment as they both thought about James and John.

"Well, Mr. Holmes I think it is clear that you are committed to the task of helping John in his recovery. In a day or two you will need to talk with the rehabilitation physician to discuss what John was like before the accident so that we can come up with a plan of action that will best suit him." She said standing up and moving over to John's bed to preform her exam of the patient. Sherlock looked up hopefully when he heard John moan in complaint at a sternum rub. His eyes opened briefly in response to the pain. However he did not open them again when the doctor asked him to or move his hand when she asked him. She gently lifted his head off of the pillows checking the bandages around his head. When Dr. Barlow completed her exam she made some notes on her clipboard and the one at the foot of the bed.

"Alright well he is still at a 9 on the GCS so we can consider him officially out of his coma and in a minimally conscious state. We will check his progress every couple of hours to monitor his improvement. Like I stated earlier Mr. Holmes he is going to be very disoriented when he first starts waking up so allow him to process things at his own pace. Do you have any remaining questions for me?" She said looking towards him expectantly.

"No nothing else." Sherlock replied still feeling rather disappointed after watching John again shut his eyes.

With a nod Dr. Barlow left the room briskly moving on towards her next patient.

Sherlock paced the room with nervous energy for a little while after she left. _Could he honestly be the support network that John would need while he was recovering? After all the only reason the man was injured in the first place was because of him. _The negative thoughts began to swarm around his mind. He had the overwhelming urge to run away from the hospital. _Perhaps it would be better if I left John to the nursing staff and go distract my mind with a case. _He thought desperately eyeing the door like a caged animal. Then he looked back at John and the desire to run completely left him as he collapsed in the chair by his bed. "How did I ever manage to make a friend such as you John?" He whispered quietly to the sleeping man. "At every turn you have been willing to risk your life for me, to even kill for me and I can't even wait by your bedside without contemplating running away." He added with self-loathing. He sat like that for a while attempting to will John awake with the intensity of his gaze. However, with the adrenaline gone and nothing to stimulate his mind his eyelids began to grow heavy and soon he began to nod off. Resting his head on the edge of John's bed.

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><p><strong>AN: Hey I finally figured out how to do that line thing lol. Hope you all are enjoying the story. As always feel free to give me some constructive criticism so that I can improve my writing. **


	8. Realization Dawns

**A/N: Sorry guys I tried to keep the story non committal on the whole JohnLock thing but I couldn't do it. The story just seems to be writing itself in that direction. To those that are interested in those kind of stories hurray read on and enjoy what I hope will be an emotional roller-coaster.**

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><p>Mycroft realized that considering how busy a man he was he probably should have just tasked an assistant with delivering the laptop bag with cell phone and chargers to Sherlock. However, he was also curious to see what further effects the injury of John Watson had caused in his brother. He would be lying if he didn't admit that it had shaken even him watching Sherlock go into shock like that after arriving at the hospital. He hoped that the good doctor pulled through quickly with no lasting damage because he honestly had no idea how his little brother might respond otherwise.<p>

Mycroft paused briefly as he reached Dr. Watson's private room, bracing himself to deal with whatever state he found Sherlock in on the other side. As he quietly opened the door however, he was pleasantly surprised. It would have even been possible for one with a Holmes-ian eye for detail to notice the faintest of smiles play across his face. Before him sat his little brother slumped forward with his elbows on his knees and his head pillowed in one hand on the mattress while the other propped up his chin. Dr. Watson had rolled over on his side at some point and had shifted his body near Sherlock's in an instinctual search for warmth.

Mycroft quietly placed the laptop bag onto the couch and pulled out his own cellphone from his pocket. This time with a clearly visible and slightly mischevious smile he took a photo of the two flat mates. Then, knowing Sherlock's cellphone had died and wouldn't ring until he plugged it in he sent the following texts.

**You two look comfortable :) [Pic] –MH**

**Also call Mrs. Hudson she attempted to badger me with a thousand questions while I was at your residence. - MH **

He briefly skimmed the clipboard at the foot of Dr. Watson's bed detailing his medical treatment. Observing that a note referencing in-hospital rehabilitation had been added he took a look around the room then sent a text to his secretary.

**Have someone bring an electric kettle, some tea, a blanket, a pillow, and some food to Saint Barth's Hospital room 293. –MH**

Having completed his brotherly duties he pocketed his phone and left the room swinging his umbrella as he left.

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><p>Sherlock felt himself being slowly drawn back to consciousness. The first thing he became aware of was the sensation of something gently scratching at his scalp and in his half conscious state he found himself leaning in to the feeling. Next he was aware of the sounds that were surrounding him. There was a rhythmic beeping and whirring noise as well as what sounded like mumbling. With the strong odor of disinfectant and freshly bleached bedding filling his nose his mind began to fully surface as he remembered he was in John's ICU room at the hospital.<p>

_Wait is John playing with my hair! _Sherlock thought with a start as his genius mind fully surfaced from sleep. He cracked one eye open, not really wanting whoever it turned out to be, to stop the soothing ministrations to his scalp. He couldn't help the giant grin that spread across his face as he took in the situation.

At some point while Sherlock was sleeping John had rolled over on his side curling around where Sherlock had his head resting on the mattress. Still in his minimally conscious state his right hand had found its way to Sherlock's hair. Based on the last understandable mumblings that the detective had over heard of '…good dog…' his curly mop of black hair was playing the role of a childhood pet in John's dream. Chuckling to himself lightly, unsure if he should be insulted or not, Sherlock allowed the calming sensation to continue. _He almost looks younger than me like this, all innocent and relaxed his boyish features are even more prominent_ Sherlock noted finding himself admiring his friends face and enjoying the warm sensation radiating through his body as a result of the feather light scratches to his scalp. _I wonder if subconsciously he knows that it's my hair he is playing with? _Sherlock thought to himself curiously. _I hope he does. _Was the almost immediate response from the emotional part of Sherlock's mind which he was constantly trying to deny existed.

_Oh. I am an idiot! _Sherlock berated himself. He suddenly found himself in his mind palace standing in the middle of the 'Analyze later' room. There was now a common thread neatly connecting all of the rooms contents and it was labeled **_John_.** _This is definitely 'not good' and this is the worst possible time to realize this. I have no other option but to delete these dangerous feelings and return to my previous ignorance._ He thought with a sense of certainty._ Actually, I wonder if I have not already made this realization once before and deleted the emotions then as well. It would explain how I managed to miss something as significant as this._ He postulated to himself. Yet, as he struggled to return his stronger than necessary emotional attachments to John back to the basement of his mind palace he made no effort to move away from the other man's hand. Thus, eventually the soothing pressure to his scalp began to pull him back into unconsciousness.

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><p>Sherlock woke again as a nurse came in to check on John.<p>

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to wake you just doing a quick checkup." The nurse whispered as she noticed Sherlock lifting his head off of the bed. Waving away her concern Sherlock stood and stretched his long frame groining as his spine popped protesting against the hunched position he had slept in. Noting the lap top bag on the couch he moved to plug in his cell phone and pull out his laptop. He quickly left the objects and returned to John's bedside when he heard the nurses overly sweet voice exclaim. "Good Dr. Watson now try and stay awake for me, just for a few minutes."

John was wearily blinking his eyes his pupils lazily searching the room struggling to focus. "Now I want you to try and lift your arm Dr. Watson." The nurse continued in a slow deliberate voice. Johns eyes slowly moved to focus on the nurse a slight squint of his eyes wrinkling his face. Then as the nurse repeated her request for the second time Sherlock glimpsed understanding cross John's face. After a second his left hand slowly lifted about 10cm off the bed before collapsing back again. "Good job Dr. Watson. I know your probably confused but you are at St. Barths Hospital. You had an accident." She explained simply. "Your head is probably going to hurt quite a bit and you might have difficulty remembering things. Don't let that frustrate you though, its perfectly natural for someone coming out of a coma." She continued kindly but it was clear John was struggling to maintain his focus on the woman and his eyelids were beginning to droop. Not wanting to miss his chance to make his presence known Sherlock quickly stepped up beside the bed. "John, its me Sherlock, I just…I wanted to…" Sherlock started unsure of what to say after he started. "I wanted you to know I'll be right here, if you need anything" he finished lamely after a pause. The other man squinted at Sherlock with the same look of confusion he had given the nurse earlier. However, before any look of understanding appeared this time John's eyes were closed again, losing his struggle against sleep.

"Just give him a little more time." The nurse told Sherlock with a pitying smile. He really was beginning to hate the nursing staff as a result of those smiles. It was as if they thought the slightest amount of bad news and Sherlock might just crumble like a piece of fragile glass. If they weren't necessary for John's recovery Sherlock would be tempted to abuse his brother's authority and have them all banned from John's room. After the nurse had left he sat back down in the chair beside John's bed his hand moving to grasp John's pulse point. Sherlock had come to the conclusion that given John's current state he ran no risk of aggravating John, especially given how unaware of his surroundings the man currently was. However, as he felt the steady thrum of John's heart beat and felt the warm flush the sensation brought to his own skin he knew he had not managed to delete his emotional epiphany from earlier. Slowly as if of its own volition his hand moved from John's wrist down to entwine his fingers with the doctors. The flush to his skin increased and Sherlock felt his own heart rate increase within his chest. He closed his eyes to simply enjoy the sensation for a moment. He began to slowly circle his thumb on the back of John's hand as thousands of questions circled his mind. Sherlock was brought back to the present with startling speed when a quiet mumble from John caused him to retract his hand quickly and distance himself from the bed. His heart was racing with fear and he felt as though he had just been caught in the act of some terrible crime. When he raised his eyes to look at John again he saw the man's eyes were still shut. _How could I have allowed myself to become so emotionally dependent on another person. _Sherlock thought with self loathing. He couldn't yet bring himself to use any other kind of descriptive words for the emotion he was feeling. Sherlock relaxed some, realizing that John had not woken up. He buried his face in his hands letting out a long frustrated sigh and wondering what he was going to do when John was fully conscious and realized that Sherlock had become emotionally attached to him. John may not have the great detectives skills of deduction when it came to a crime scene but the good doctor was highly skilled at matters regarding physical and emotional health. Running his fingers through his hair in frustration he moved back to the couch to turn on his cellphone desperate to find some kind of distraction from this emotional struggle he seemed unable to delete.

His phone buzzed as it turned on informing him that he had several messages.

**Sherlock is John alright! I just stopped by Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson was a mess. -GL**

Realizing he probably should have given the poor woman an update by now Sherlock quickly sent her a text.

**John is going to be alright he just needs to stay at the hospital for a while in order to fully recover. -SH**

He sent the same text to Lestrade adding that he would not be able to help out much with his case but if he wanted he could bring the file to John's hospital room for him to look over. The next message that Sherlock had received was from Mycroft and had a picture attached. Opening the picture Sherlock let out a sigh of irritation at his older brother quickly typing out a reply in response.

**Do not use emoticons brother they do not suit you. -SH**

However, when he moved to delete the photo he could not bring himself to do so instead moving to check the other message from his brother and then closing his phone. Besides why would John ever go through the pictures on Sherlock's phone. A moment later Sherlock's thoughts were pulled away from the subject as his phone began to buzz in his hand.

**I am sorry that this is happening now but we really need your help on this case would it be possible to bring the file by this afternoon? I can bring Mrs. Hudson as well she seemed really worried about you two. –GL**

Sherlock only took a moment to contemplate this realizing that he needed a distraction from these emotions that refused to remain deleted.

**Yes that's fine. John is in room 293 at St. Barth's. -SH**


	9. Sandhurst Days

**AN/: Sorry for the delay in the updates but with everything that is going to be going on soon I thought it would be a good idea to create more of an outline before continuing much further. I hope you all enjoy the next chapters. **

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><p>"What could Mycroft possibly want now!" Sherlock shouted in response to the prim short knock to the door. Then he quickly glanced over at John to see if his shouting had stirred the man at all. He thought he saw a slight frown cross his features, the one that generally accompanied his admonishing looks of <em>Not good Sherlock, <em>but he shook his head dismissing it as related to his frustratingly emotional state at the moment.

"Mr. Holmes may I come in," replied the man on the other side of the door in a Posh accent.

"Yes, yes the doors open don't be unnecessarily proper with me I'm not Mycroft." Sherlock said exasperatedly splayed out on the couch.

"Well actually Mr. Holmes my hands are quite full if you wouldn't mind assisting me with the door." The man responded with a light chuckle in his voice.

With a put upon sigh Sherlock leaned over the arm of the couch and threw the door open.

The man really did have his hands full he was carrying a small cool box in one hand with a large blanket slung over the arm and a pillow tucked underneath. In the other hand he grasped an electric kettle with a tuberware container full of tea pressed to his chest with the same arm. The man shuffled into the room and began placing the items on the counter across from the bed. Removing two mugs wrapped in a tea towel from inside the kettle the man turned to face Sherlock.

"Would you like a cup of tea and a sandwich Mr. Holmes? Your brother has asked me to ensure that you consume some sustenance before I leave." The man stated.

Sherlock squinted at the man. "Given that most of my brothers employees are well aware of my personality the fact that you are here on this assignment means that you are either trying desperately to gain my brothers favor or you have done something to profoundly annoy my brother but are valuable enough not to fire." Sherlock rattled off while continuing to gather more data from the man's appearance. After a moment he concluded, "Ah the later then, well in that case…" He said with a smile moving to open the cool box and pulling out a singular grape. He tossed the piece of fruit in his mouth and crushed it with his teeth. "You can now inform my brother that you watched me eat some fruit without him being able to catch you in a lie." Sherlock said with a smirk. The man returned Sherlock's smile, "Well I will allow you to return to your friend then, good afternoon Mr. Holmes." The man said with a nod turning to leave the room.

"Oh by the way," Sherlock added as the man reached the door, "please feel free to continue with what ever action of yours caused my brother so much irritation." The man chuckled as he shut the door behind himself.

When Sherlock turned and was reminded of the state that John was in the smirk fell from his face. _I miss John's smile. _The thought randomly popped into Sherlock's mind and it startled him with its level of emotional intensity. It seemed as though now that his mind had connected the dots regarding John the frequency with which he experienced these emotional moments seemed to be increasing. He began to pace the room again in frustration.

A few minutes later he froze mid step in response to the groan he heard from the bed behind him. When he turned he was startled to see John sluggishly struggling to sit up. He rushed to his friend's side gently applying pressure to his shoulder to get him to lie back down again.

"Calm down John you don't need to be sitting up just yet." Sherlock said in as calming a voice as he could muster while he internally suppressed his body's response to the spike in adrenaline it was receiving at seeing John so active. His heart skipped a beat though when John began to talk in a gravely unused voice.

"Beldon mate why did you let me sleep in, you know Staff Sergeant is going to kill me if I'm late for parade again." John half slurred.

Sherlock was confused he had no idea what John was talking about or who he thought he was talking to.

"John your in hospital," He attempted to explain. However, John continued as if he didn't hear him.

"…can't be late going to get a Platoon Commander's Warning..." He started to try and sit up again swatting weakly at Sherlock's hand on his shoulder.

"John!" Sherlock shouted this time waiting as the disoriented man's eyes slowly moved to look at Sherlock blinking for a moment in confusion.

"Your not Beldon," John said dumbly, "and I'm not in my barracks?" he added looking around the room in confusion.

"That's what I was trying to tell you, you're in hospital." Sherlock said sitting back in the chair by the bed so that he wasn't towering over John.

"hospital…huh…" John repeated not quite sounding as though he understood. The room grew quite as John simply stared up at the roof as if still confused by his situation. Sherlock was at a loss for what to say all of the conversations that he had thought of while John lay in his coma seemed to have just vanished. Then suddenly John sat up with startling speed considering his condition.

"I can't be in hospital they will put me in Lucknow Platoon, I need to get back to training. We were in the middle…of…of…" John started out shouting then slowly faded off as he slumped back in the bed. His sudden upward movement had caused him to grow faint and Sherlock could see his face paling slightly.

"Beldon I think I'm .. take a nap..." John mumbled as his eyes slowly shut and he was once again asleep.

Sherlock who had stood up again when John had sat up so suddenly now starred at his friend in shock and fear. His mind had pieced together the terminology John had been using and realized that he had thought he was back at Sandhurst. Based off of Sherlock's estimates on when John had joined the officer corps that meant John had believed it was about a decade earlier than it was.

Attempting to quell the rising fear and despair in the pit of his stomach Sherlock reminded himself that the Doctor had mentioned John would be confused and disoriented for a couple of days no matter what. Taking a deep breath he maintained control over his rising emotions. Standing he moved over to the counter to fix a cup of tea. He allowed his mind to focus wholly on the task of preparing the cup of tea. He chuckled when he realized that he was utilizing John's method of coping with stress. The man truly had a profound impact on his life. He allowed himself to get lost for a moment in his happy memories of John; preparing him tea just the way he liked it without him having to ask for some, pestering him about eating regularly, carefully stitching up his cuts from having to subdue a suspect. The man had always been constantly fussing over Sherlock's health and well being. This thought gave him pause, could it be that John was interested in Sherlock as well. Sipping his mug of tea he turned to look at John with a look of hope and longing briefly moving across his face before he returned to a look of neutrality. Placing his mug on the bedside table he collapsed back into the chair next to John's bed with a heavy exhale. _Get a hold of yourself_; _this is why sentiment is dangerous John has stated on multiple occasions that he isn't gay. Why would he have had reason to lie? _As Sherlock thought this his mind palace supplied him with a flash of his first dinner with John at Angelo's.

-FLASH BACK-

_"You don't have a girlfriend then?"_

_"Girlfriend…no…not my area."_

_"…alright…do you have a boyfriend, which is fine by the way."_

_"I know its fine." (He had never felt shame over the fact that before he had chosen to treat his body purely as transport he had found himself attracted only to males.)_

_John was smiling his teeth showing but it looked almost forced. "…so you've got a boyfriend." (had that been disappointment on his face or simply discomfort at the conversation topic?)_

_"No"_

_"right…ok…" John let out a relieved sigh combined with a chuckle. "Your unattached just like me" John subconsciously licked his lips as he finished this statement. "…fine, good." (lip licking can sometimes be a subconscious display of the desire to kiss someone he contemplated or was he simply seeing what he wanted to see in retrospect?)_

_(It had been at this point the first time around that Sherlock had even thought about the possibility that his new flat mate might be romantically interested.)_

_"John…umm, I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered by your interest I" (His response had been honest at the time he was not interested in anything outside of his work but so much had changed since he made that statement.)_

_"No…No " John stuttered while swallowing his food and shaking his head as though struggling to find a way to deal with the situation. " No I'm not asking… No I'm not interested…" John repeated himself the second time with more conviction. Sherlock with little experience in dealing with others romantic interest accepted that he had been mistaken in his conclusions with little difficulty. (Although as he looked back at the memory a second time he had to wonder if John had been attempting to protect himself emotionally after realizing that Sherlock had essentially said there was no way he would ever be interested in him.)_

-FLASH BACK-

Was it possible that Sherlock had been correct on his initial deduction of John's bi-sexuality and interest in him that day and simply miscalculated the effect his rejection would have on John. What if John had continually insisted on pretending he wasn't bi-sexual in order to help keep his own emotions in check choosing to have a platonic relationship with Sherlock rather than no relationship at all. Or perhaps, and rather Sherlock suspected, was he creating a plausible fiction to believe in as a result of his current realization of his own interest in John. Steeple-ing his fingers under his chin Sherlock returned to his mind palace to continue rehashing memories of their time together over the last couple of years. He wished not for the first time that he was more adept at interpreting peoples emotional states and motivations in maters not pertaining to crimes. His cup of tea grew cold, forgotten as the genius racked his mind for answers to the mystery that is John Watson.


	10. A Simple Case

Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson where surprised to see that Sherlock was standing outside of John's room as they approached room 293. Things began to make more sense as they saw that Sherlock appeared to be talking very animatedly with a member of the nursing staff who was growing more and more distraught with each word that was said to her. Lestrade quickened his pace jogging down the hallway. Catching the last of Sherlock's bitter and venomously whispered tirade at the woman just before she ran off nearly in tears.

"If you are constantly causing the patients under your care more pain and duress then it is no wonder that your boyfriend is wholly unsupportive of your career in medicine. Perhaps he is correct in his judgment that you should find different employment."

Lestrade placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and the man immediately tensed whirling and refocusing his anger and frustration on a new target.

"Whoa, whoa easy now what's gotten you so worked up Sherlock" Lestrade said slowly putting his hands up in a placating manner and taking a step back.

"That woman…That sorry excuse for a medical practitioner! She was practically torturing John, if this is the best care this hospital can offer I should get John released into an alternate care provider immediately. That sadists will never step foot in that room again." Sherlock seethed.

"Sherlock take a deep breath and calm down." Lestrade suggested completely expecting the sarcastic eye roll he received in return, but Sherlock did take a deep breath. "Alright now explain to me with facts not exaggerations what happened with the nurse." Lestrade said taking a small amount of pleasure in using one of Sherlock's lines on the man himself. Perhaps if nothing else came from this terrible accident Sherlock might gain a small modicum of empathy for the family members he harasses at crime scenes.

"I had been in my mind palace organizing…my thoughts" Sherlock explained hesitating briefly to find the right words at the end. "When I became aware of the sound of John practically keening in pain." When I looked up that woman had practically sat on John's chest in order to pin his arms and was practically assaulting John's already injured skull in her sorry attempt at changing the bandage. When I told her that she needed to increase John's pain medication, she stated she could not, completely ignoring the moans of pain coming from John as she yanked the bandages around his skull. She did not even attempt to explain to John what was going on. I attempted to turn John's medication up myself but she removed the key from the machine before I could adjust it. Eventually John appeared to pass out from the pain and at that point I could not stand her blatant disregards for John's pain and left for the hallway. When she left the room shortly after I made it perfectly clear to her that her sadistic behavior would be reported." Sherlock stated crossing his arms against his chest and looking away from Lestrade with a look of self-righteous disdain on his face.

Lestrade let out a heavy sigh, he had supposed it would only be a matter of time before the "in shock" Sherlock wore off and petulant man/child Sherlock made his presence known. He had hoped it would have been after his visit but after knowing Sherlock for so many years he was use to this.

"Sherlock did you consider the fact that the nurse may have explained everything to John before she began but due to his head injury he did not fully understand or remember. In addition, that same head injury could have caused John to be highly combative to normal routine care." Lestrade asked patiently giving Sherlock an expectant look as that information sunk in.

"Yes…well…even if that were so, which I'm not saying, she could have at least raised John's dosage." Sherlock stated irritably.

"Sherlock!" This time Lestrades voice had a some edge to it he could not afford for Sherlock not to acknowledge his next words. "You of all people should recognize the necessity of ensuring that John is not administered to much pain medication. I know that your brother has gained you full access to John's room but if I suspect that you may cause him harm by being here I will have you removed. You will not adjust John's medication, do you understand me." Lestrade stated firmly, not quite yelling but in what some of the boys at the station deemed his "disappointed father" tone. Initially Sherlock's eyes were aflame with indignation and fury as he glared back at Lestrade. However, as what he had said truly sunk in the flame went out and the man visibly deflated.  
>"I never thought about John getting addicted," Sherlock mumbled to himself. <em>These stupid emotions are inhibiting my ability to think. <em>Sherlock mentally screamed in frustration.

"Come on dearie, lets go see how the good doctor is doing." Mrs Hudson said having quietly moved beside the two men after catching up with Lestrade.

As the three of them moved into the small room Mrs Hudson let out a small gasp covering her mouth and moved to John's side immediately attempting to mother the unconscious ex-soldier. "O you poor thing…" She muttered as she tucked in his blankets around him, brushed his fringe of hair out of his eyes and mopped the fresh sheen of sweat from his brow.

Sherlock collapsed back onto the couch in his overly dramatic fashion and preceded to steeple his fingers under his chin while staring off in to space. Lestrade simply shook his head at the young man whom he had grown quite fond of in an 'I occasionally want to murder you' sort of way over the course of their many years working together. _However, considering how long I've known Sherlock I have to admit that the man has grown exponentially as a human being since coming in contact with John Watson. _Lestrade thought to himself as he moved forward to look at John lying limply in his hospital bed. He hoped for the sake of both John and Sherlock that the man had a complete and uneventful recovery. With a sigh he moved to sit beside Sherlock on the couch pulling the manila file from his jacket and waiting patiently for the younger man to finish collecting his thoughts. Mrs. Hudson had begun fixing tea and unloading the biscuits and cakes she had brought along for the boys from the bag she had left over by the door.

With a collected exhale and his cold sociopathic mask back in place Sherlock turned to acknowledge Lestrades presence.

"I believe you had a case you wanted to discuss." He stated.

"Well it's a kidnapping turned into a murder but there is no sign of a break in and the only individual besides the parents who had that kind of access to the house was the one who was murdered. We found absolutely no murder weapon and I waited tell I received the coroners report to come see you." Lestrade explained attempting to garner Sherlock's curiosity right from the start. He handed the file over as he continued. "On top of needing to find the boy within the golden 24 hours there is the added complication of who he is, the only son to the Duke of Devonshire. There are quite a few higher-ups leaning heavily on the department as a result, so we would like to solve this as fast as possible." Lestrade stated running his fingers through his hair the stress from the day clearly starting to catch up with him. Sherlock was silent for about five minutes as he poured over every detail of the case file.

_The parents arrived back to their London flat in Chesham Palace early in the morning after a trip abroad to discover their nanny dead in the kitchen and their seven-year-old son missing. The front door had been locked when they arrived home. Nothing was stolen even though the house was full of valuable items. The boy however, was missing. His room appeared to have been ransacked clothing was scattered everywhere and drawers were left open. The bed however was still made, the bookshelf relatively orderly…although a book or two was missing, and the door to the room was found shut. The coroners report stated the cause of death as a stress induced myocardial infarction or heart attack. The kitchen was fairly mundane as well, there was one chair nocked over near the Nanny but it appeared she had grasped the chair while falling over. The pantry was open as well but nothing appeared to be missing or ransacked within that either. Near the elderly woman's feet was a broom laying hap hazardously across the floor. Although no pile of dirt was present. When he inspected closer he also noticed a loop of kit string tied to the broom handle but it appeared that what ever had been tied to it had been cut off. Ah, _he thought as everything came together in his mind. Then with some disappointment he thought. _This interesting but easy. _Sometimes he really didn't understand how the New Scotland Yard detectives could be so inept.

"Really Lestrade, this case is truly quite simple." Sherlock began already preparing his usual insults, however, as he looked back up and caught sight of John motionlessly lying in the bed he stopped. Suddenly finding that without the knowledge that his dramatic listing of deductions would be greeted with a 'that's brilliant' from John there seemed to be little joy in the act anymore. He couldn't see the point in demonstrating how useless Anderson and his theories had been or how incompetent Lestrade's team was seemed to have lost all its allure. Looking away and closing the file Sherlock continued in a much more subdued voice. "There was no kidnapping. You saw what you expected to see and ignored evidence to the contrary. What occurred was far from your ordinary crime scene but if you look at all of the evidence its the only fit. The boy attempting to ease his boredom decided to play a prank on his nanny. He set up a fairly classic prank of attaching a scary mask or image to a broom handle and left the broom so that when the pantry was opened the broom would fall forward. The nanny being quite elderly could not handle the scar and ended up suffering a heart attack. The boy just old enough to realize that something had gone terribly wrong with his prank decided to run away. If you look out the tree outside his room you will see scuff marks in the bark caused by a small individual climbing down the tree. Everywhere you are currently searching is based off the assumption that the boy was kidnapped. What you are actually looking for is a seven year old run away." Sherlock finished in a dry tone.

"Oh my how terrible," Mrs Hudson whispered as she handed Sherlock and Lestrade cups of tea.

"Sherlock this is only slightly better than if he had been kidnapped. I seriously doubt the seven-year-old son of an aristocratic family will do very well on the streets of London." Lestrade asked anxiously as he quickly typed out a text on his cell phone. "The parents probably won't even accept this as a theory until we have their son back either. I'm going to have to run interference so that the higher-ups don't realize we are pursuing this avenue. Do you have any guesses as to where the boy might have gone?" He added as an afterthought sighing in resignation at the increased headache.

"I do not _guess _Lestrade," Sherlock stated with disdain but none of his usual rancor he seemed to have spent most of his pent up frustration on the nurse and now he was back to just feeling numb again.

"Sherlock please, a little boys life is at risk," Lestraded countered.

"Hand me a pen," Sherlock sighed grabbing the manila file back from Lestrade. "Go to the foot bridge in Hyde Park by yourself at 9pm and drop this note, 30 pounds, and a picture of the boy into the musician there's collection bin. The homeless network should be able to find him. If they do they will drop the information at the doorstep to 221B, Mrs. Hudson if you could inform the detective if any such information arrives." Sherlock explained ripping the corner he had written on off of the manila folder when he was done.

"I am sorry that I haven't stayed long at all but you understand that with a situation like this we need to start searching as soon as possible Sherlock." Lestrade stated carefully placing the note in the pocket of his jacket. "Mrs. Hudson would you be alright with catching a cab home from the hospital?" Lestrade asked clearly wanting to get started on the new lead as soon as possible.

"Yes that's quite alright dearie you find that poor boy as soon as possible." Mrs Hudson said giving Lestrade a shooing motion out the door. Once Lestrade had left she took his place on the couch next to Sherlock. They sat together in companionable silence for a while.

"He'll be fine you know Sherlock," Mrs Hudson whispered into the silence in a comforting voice. "I've known you a long time dear and I can tell this is really upsetting you but John was a Soldier I'm sure he has dealt with far worst injuries than this." She continued, pre-emptively responding to Sherlock's sarcastic response before he could voice it. Sherlock deflated in response to her second statement realizing how much Mrs. Hudson had grown to be like a mother figure to him. He remembered when he had been at his worst addicted to cocaine and practically living on the streets. Mrs. Hudson had always granted him a warm meal and a hot drink with no judgment whenever he showed up at her door. Yes, he had helped her deal with her ex-husband but she had gone far above and beyond paying him back years ago. _Perhaps she could help me make sense of these…emotions. _Sherlock thought glancing over at his landlady who returned him a kind hearted smile.

"Mrs Hudson…" He began not quite sure how to continue. "Do you believe…do you think I am good for John?...His recovery that is. I mean this whole accident only occurred because he lives with me." Sherlock asked stumbling to find the right words and adding the last part with so much self-loathing.

"Sherlock! Don't you dare blame this on yourself? It was an accident that is all." Mrs. Hudson said with admonishment. Then in a much more gentle tone she added "…and of course you are good for John. You two are the best thing for each other." She said smiling at Sherlock fully understanding the subtext of his question. She was happy that the young genius finally seemed to be recognizing what everyone around him had seen for months. She just hoped that John would recover quickly and with no complications now so that the two could get on with their lives. A small smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth in response to her comment. The two continued to sit in silence for a few more minutes just watching the steady breathing of John Watson.

"Oh I have a surprise for you Sherlock. I wanted it to be a proper surprise so I left it at the nurse's desk before we came to the room. I'll just run and grab it." Mrs. Hudson said breaking the quite as she moved for the door. Sherlock fidgeted as he waited wishing he had looked more closely at Mrs. Hudson when she came in so that he would know what his surprise was. Fortunately for his sanity she returned in a few minutes. Sherlock's heart leapt with joy when he saw her carry his violin case into the room.

"Mrs. Hudson I could kiss you!" Sherlock exclaimed. He hadn't realized how much he needed his violin until she placed the item in his lap. Through out his life Sherlock had always used his music as an escape when situations became too much for him to process and this was definitely one of those situations.

"I think as long as you aren't too loud and play soothing songs the hospital staff wont mind too much. You know they always say that music and talking can help in these situations." She said smiling as Sherlock already had the violin out of the case and was attaching the chin rest.

"Well I'll let you play your music then," She stated realizing that he would be difficult to talk to in a moment. "You take care of him Sherlock and don't forget to take care of yourself," She said gesturing to the food she had brought him. "You just call me if you two need anything," she added as she walked out the door.

Sherlock smiled to himself again remembering her kind words and hoping that maybe, just maybe they would be true. He tightened his bowstring and began to play Tchaikovsky's 'Serenade Melancolique' he closed his eyes and allowed his entire body to move with the music.

He was so engrossed in the music he did not notice when John slowly opened his eyes.

John's eyes slowly tracked around the room until they locked onto the form of the violinist swaying slowly with the music at the foot of his bed. He didn't say anything for fear that the music would stop. He simply watched entranced with a dopy grin on his face for several minutes until his eyelids began to grow heavy. _I wonder why he is here? _John thought as his mind slowly faded back into sleep.

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><p><strong>AN: Ok so again sorry for the lack of updates in a while my job is kinda crazy. I hope everyone enjoyed these two chapters and as always any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thanks for all the follows you guys keep me motivated. ^_^ <strong>


	11. Oblivion

**So I know ****I'm super inconsistent in my writing pace, I apologize. Hope you all still enjoy the story and I appreciate honest critique.**

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><p>After he had been playing for about an hour Sherlock heard someone clear their throat behind him. It was nurse Karen. <em>Ah night shift has started again<em>. His ever observant mind supplied.

"That was really beautiful," She stated with a smile. " I'm sorry to disturb you but John is due for a CT scan. I need to give him the contrast now so that he will be ready by the time of the scan." She stated as she moved beside Johns bed adjusting his IV bags and checking his line. Sherlock put away his violin and moved to sit on the couch out of the nurse's way. He ran his fingers through his hair and checked his watch. He let out a groan as he realized it had now been the longest 24 hours of his life. Nurse Karen gave him a sympathetic look as she finished injecting the contrast into his IV bag.

Sherlock watched curiously as the murky liquid disappeared into Johns arm. Karen quietly went about checking John's vitals then left the room in silence again. Two orderlies arrived about an hour later to take John to his CT scan. Sherlock took the time as an opportunity to get out of the hospital room for a bit and walk around some. He made it a point to grab food from a snack machine to ensure he wouldn't need his brother's food.

"Oh Sherlock, lovely news John woke up during the CT scan and was doing quite well he is still confused and his short term memory is still struggling but his speech and reactions seemed appropriate." Karen stated with a genuine smile. Sherlock couldn't help but reflect her smile. John was beginning to recover and at least there were no clear issues with motor skills or speech.

"You keep playing for him," Karen stated nodding towards Sherlock's violin on the couch. "I think it will definitely help his recovery." She added as she left the room. In agreement he moved to the couch and gently lifted the violin from its case. He began to play watching John as he played initially but eventually loosing himself in the music and closing his eyes. Several minutes later as Sherlock was beginning to play 'Oblivion' by Piazzoila he stopped in response to a sound from Johns bed. Sherlock whirled around to see John staring back at him with hazy eyes.

"Your…" He began but was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"your back," he tried again his voice rough from the coughing. Sherlock moved to put his violin in its case but stopped when John shakily coughed out a "No".

"please keep playing" John weakly stated.

With a gentle smile in response Sherlock placed the violin back under his chin and continued with the song. When he opened his eyes after finishing the song John's eyes were shut again. Sherlock placed his violin back in his case and collapsed back into the seat by John's bed with a frustrated sigh. He couldn't stand this waiting and these short periods of John in semi consciousness, he just wants his friend back to normal. He rested his head in his hands listening to the steady beating of Johns heart rate monitor.

It was the heart rate monitor that first alerted Sherlock that something was wrong. The beeping began to accelerate first then John began to shake slightly at first and then violently. Sherlock froze for an instance at first in panic and fear then he leapt to his feet trying to determine what action could be taken. He decided to stabilize John's neck to prevent him from re-injuring his head but beyond that he had no idea what else he could do. He felt completely helpless. He tried desperately to reach John with his voice repeating his name but the man was not responding. After what felt like an eternity to Sherlock two nurses rushed into the room; assessing John and moving Sherlock out of the way. His heart plummeted when he saw the nurses check John's eyes and find that his pupils where rolled back into his head and he heard one of the nurses state that it was a seizure. The two moved urgently around John and continued to monitor him once the seizure had subsided. Eventually Sherlock realized that one of them was talking to him.

"Sir….Sir, your friend has just had a seizure. This can occur some times after a brain injury. We will notify his doctor and she will more than likely determine an anti seizure medication to administer but this really doesn't mean anything good or bad for your friends long term condition. Do you understand?" The nurse asked. Sherlock simply nodded his head slowly in shock.

As the nurses left Sherlock was once again left to face the fact that he could still lose John at any moment. He wasn't sure he could deal with all this stress. He was starting to feel claustrophobic. He had waited all this time beside John's bed but right now he felt like he couldn't spend one more moment in that hospital room. He moved quickly to the door and swept out of the room. He contemplated leaving the hospital entirely but as he was reaching the entryway he remembered his conversation with Dr. Barlow. He wouldn't abandon John when he needed him. He continued to roam the Hospital allowing the constant flow of information his brain always processed to act as background noise and help ease his mind. He paced for about a half hour more before he returned to John's room relatively calmed but his nerves were still in tatters.

Sherlock had been sitting in silence for over an hour when he heard a quiet moan come from John. He looked up to see the man struggling to keep his eyes open against the harsh light of the hospital room. John attempted to say something only to be overcome with a coughing fit. Sherlock rushed to get him a glass of water. After drinking a few sips John tried again.

"Where…am I" He asked.

"Your in the hospital, you've had an injury to your head." Sherlock stated choosing to keep things simple as John tried to figure everything out.

"Don't try to get up just yet John." Sherlock added as he gently pressed John back into the mattress. "Here, I'll adjust your bed." He added as he pushed the button to elevate John's bed. Sherlock was relieved that John was staying up much longer this time. However, this happiness was short lived when John asked his next question. "Who are you?" It was impossible for him to hide the complete look of despair that crossed Sherlock's face. "Did I say something wrong?" John asked his kindhearted nature shining through.  
>"No you didn't say anything wrong," Sherlock stated through the overwhelming pain in his chest. "We are friends, my name is Sherlock."<p>

"Oh…" John stated lapsing into silence seeming unsure how he was suppose to respond to that information. After a minute or two of silence he looked up at Sherlock and asked. "Why am I here?" He looked up with such a look of innocent confusion on his face.

"John…I just told you…you're in the hospital you had an accident and injured your head." Sherlock answered hesitantly. John looked back at him bewildered. "When did you tell me that?" He asked with a yawn. Fear pierced Sherlock's heart at that question. Could John have lost his short-term memory? But the nurse said he was fine during the CT scan, but what about that seizure. Could it have caused serious damage, Sherlock asked himself. John yawned again as he began to shut his eyes. "Well I'm not sure who you are but you'll have to talk to me later. I'm quiet tired right now" He mumbled as he fell back asleep. At first Sherlock simply stared at the bed where his friend now lay asleep. He was in complete shock, then he leapt to his feet and began pacing. Every doubt that Sherlock had just barely managed to hold at bay flooded his mind. _This cant be happening what is John without his memories? Will he still be the same person, will we still be friends? What if given time to step back and see the damage I have caused to his life John chooses to leave. Maybe like Doctor Barlow had said John will come to realize that I am not good for him after all look what I have done to him he is in Hospital._

"I'm not sure how I can face this,… I'm not sure at all." Sherlock moaned aloud as he collapsed into the couch burying his face in his hands. In the background the steady beeping of Johns heart rate monitor seemed to sound the end of Sherlock's first and only true friendship.


	12. Blurry

**As a fair warning there is some language use in this chapter for those who are easily offended. In my view it is appropriate to the situation but I have at least warned you. If you have any suggestions or critiques please feel free to let me know. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter I tried to make it a long one this time.**

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><p>Sherlock's emotional rollercoaster had only just begun and after a couple of hours his self-loathing was interrupted by the sound of John awakening again. The man in question then sluggishly rubbed at his eyes attempting to adjust to the light then moved to try and sit up. Sherlock who had been frozen waiting to see what state John would be in this time moved to help John sit up and adjust his bed. He handed him the glass of water again but was too afraid to speak. After fumbling briefly John was able to finish the glass of water using both hands to hold the glass and still spilling some water down his chin. Once he had finished his drink he began looking around the room he was in with what Sherlock wanted to believe was a more cognizant gaze. Sherlock noticed that he was still blinking a lot and rubbing his eyes so he moved to turn off one of the overhead lights still waiting on John to speak first.<p>

After thoroughly searching the room John finally turned to Sherlock still periodically blinking and wiping at his eyes. "Could you get my chart" He stated slightly lethargically.

For a moment Sherlock simply stared back at him not fully processing the unexpected request then his brain kickstarted again and he snatched the metal clipboard off the foot of the bed presenting it to Watson to grab. The mans arm moved listlessly to grab the clipboard accidentally knocking it out of Sherlock's hand and then picking it up off of the bed.

John squinted at the paperwork, moving the clipboard closer to his face as frustration grew evident on his face. Finally he shouted, "Even for a doctor his writing is terrible and threw the clipboard onto the bedside table knocking the empty cup to the floor." Sherlock jumped at the sudden shift in volume.

The following awkward silence was broken by John asking, "What happened?" His voice back to a quite slightly lethargic tone. Sherlock bent over to grab the plastic cup placing it back on the table and returning the clipboard to its proper place.

"You were in an accident and had a bad hit to the head. You were in a coma for several hours." Sherlock stated deciding to keep things simple for now.

John nodded gently at this and brought a hand up to lightly feel the bandage on his head.

"What Hospital?" He asked after a pause.

"Your at St Baths." Sherlock supplied.

John nodded slowly with a distracted air as though he had only slightly processed the information. Then with no warning he gasped and sat up propping himself up on his elbows. His face paled for a second responding poorly to the sudden change in position but he hardly seemed to notice the drop in blood pressure.

"My unit, what happened! Are all the men alright?!" He half shouted while fixing Sherlock with a look of urgent desperation.

"You're men…I..ugh…" Sherlock stumbled over his words.

"The First Fusiliers Second Company!" John shouted becoming agitated now. "Are the lads alright!" Johns heart rate monitor was beeping considerably faster but the alarm hadn't tripped yet.

"John…the men, your men…you weren't injured in combat." Sherlock fumbled unclear on how to handle the situation.

John looked confused and then embarrassed. "Do you mean? I didn't go and get myself hospitalized while I was at the Camp did I? Sye is never going to let me live this down" He finished with exasperation collapsing back into the pillow. John shook his head chuckling.

"Who is Sye?" Sherlock asked, curiosity briefly winning out over anxiety for the moment.

"He's the Doc attached to First Company. We've been mates since my first deployment to Afghanistan. God I hope I at least have a good story on how I managed to get injured inside Camp." John stated finishing with a chuckle as he relaxed back onto the bed.

"John…" Sherlock began his voice cracking in trepidation as he returned to the matter at hand. "What is todays date."

John rolled his head over to look at Sherlock and glanced to the ceiling as he contemplated the question. He then cracked a stereotypical John smile and said laughingly, "well I did just take a hit to the head but if I had to wager I'd guess the 6th or 7th of November." He finished with a shrug.

Sherlock winced internally at the date, which was nearly a month off and continued on. "And what year is it John?"

John looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion but answered the question non-the less. "Its 2008...…it is still 2008 right?" John asked agitation coloring his voice as the heart rate monitor again began to increase. "What day is it then?" He asked in a wavering voice looking at Sherlock with unguarded fear.

Sherlock swallowed thickly wishing a nurse or someone would show up and take over this for him. He was certain he was not helping John with this conversation and for one of the few times in his life Sherlock felt as if he was about to be overwhelmed by his emotions at any moment.

"It's the…umm, 12th of October…2010." He stuttered hating himself for the look of complete loss and confusion, which swept over Johns face at his words.

"I don't understand, I was just in my quarters inventorying my medical kit. This doesn't make any sense." John said with growing frustration.

"Where am I!" John nearly shouted as his frustration turned into anger with Sherlock.

"John I told you earlier you are at St. Barth's. You hit your head and I believe you are experiencing some memory loss." Sherlock stated trying to sound as calming as he could John's heart rate monitor was again accelerating.

"NO THIS ISNT REAL!" John shouted at Sherlock his heart rate finally reaching the point to set off the alarms. This only added to Johns disorientation and confusion and he began to try and sit up tangling himself in his bed sheets. This feeling of restraint then completely set John off and he began to shout and yell. Sherlock recognized the behavior as a waking version of one of his PTSD episodes. Sherlock attempted to approach him in a non-threatening manner and get him to calm down but was forced to grab his wrists when he began to pull at the tape holding down his IV drip.  
>"JOHN! Please calm down" Sherlock attempted to shout over the ravings of the other man. "I'm your friend please let me help you." Sherlock begged desperately but it was clear from the distant look in John's eyes that he was seeing a different scene than the one actually surrounding him. If there was any doubt of this fact in Sherlock's mind it was removed when John proceeded to spit in Sherlock's face and scream "FUCK YOU! WHERE ARE YOU TAKING US, YOU BETTER NOT HAVE HARMED A GOD DAMN HAIR ON ANY OF THE LADS! IM A DOCTOR YOU HAVE TO LET ME TREAT THE WOUNDED!"<p>

Sherlock began to feel a prickling in the back of his eyes, which had not plagued him since his boyhood. Whipping the spit and promise of tears from his face he tried again. "John please, I need you to calm down its Sherlock, your friend. You're in Hospital no one is taking you anywhere. Please just relax." Sherlock begged John his voice cracking with emotion. However, it was clear his words weren't reaching John who was still thrashing around on the bed. A moment later a nurse burst through the door, prepping the syringe in his hand to administer on John. Moments after the syringe was emptied John's movements began to slow. After a few more murmured curses and protests his eyes fluttered closed and his breathing and heart rate evened out.

The nurse then fixed John's IV and checked all his vitals after finishing this he turned to Sherlock expectantly. His fear and shock must have been visible on his face however because the nurses expression quickly shifted to one of understanding and sympathy.

"Sir, a lot of patients become combative after waking from coma as a result of the disorientation and emotional instability they are experiencing. Don't take any comments he said to you personally. Just when he wakes up in a little bit after the sedative wears off go ahead and press the call button. One of the nurses will come in and help assess him and help him deal with the disorientation."

All Sherlock Holmes, the genius detective, could think to say in response was "I don't think he knows who I am anymore."

The Nurse raised a hand to offer a comforting shoulder squeeze but then dropped it. He could tell by the expression on Sherlock's face that he would rather just have some space. He quietly left the room shutting the door behind him. Sherlock blindly groped for the chair beside him and heavily collapsed into it. Desperate for some kind of reassurance he grabbed the pulse point on John's wrist. It helped somewhat to calm his nerves. John's heart rate had slowed significantly since the administration of the sedative and Sherlock idly wondered how long it would be before John awoke again and he would have to relive this torture again. He let his head fall back with a thud against the chair sighing heavily as he did so. Attempting to shut everything out he shut his eyes briefly however his overly active mind quickly supplied the vivid imagery of John cursing and spitting in his face again. Sherlock snapped his eyes open and let out an audible groin of frustration rubbing his hands over his face viciously as if he would wipe away the memory. He knew that he had told Dr. Barlow that he would be able to stick with John and help him through this but he wasn't sure he could deal with John treating him like everyone else. He imagined John harassing him in the same manner as Sally and Anderson, calling him a freak and a psychopath. The self-pity and loathing were beginning to swallow him whole when he gave his head a violent shake. _No, he was not some sniveling idiot who would allow himself to wallow in self pity and doubt. He would analyze the facts and determine what solutions were possible at the moment. _He began to play his cinematic quality memory again but this time with the sound and emotions deleted. He immediately noticed the frequency with which John had blinked and rubbed at his eyes. As well as the frustration John had experienced at attempting to read his chart and being unable to. This he could work with, Sherlock pulled out his phone and began to research "vision impairment problems after coma". Sherlock quickly found multiple medical sources explaining the various visual complications that can result from mild to severe brain injuries. Just like when he had researched coma symptoms the other day Sherlock found this information far from comforting. There were articles discussing the permanent loss of sight in whole quadrants of patient's fields of vision and other articles discussing the loss of some patients ability to process words on paper. Sherlock felt that more than likely John's issues fell into the simpler explanation of a loss of vision acuity or focus briefly after waking from a coma. However, that did not prevent him from feeling extremely guilty yet again for having been the cause of John being in this situation in the first place.

Sherlock was starting to lose himself in the research when a man clearing his throat grabbed his attention.

He looked up to see a rather abashed faced John looking back at him.

"about earlier…umm…when I, well…I guess that was a bit not good." John stammered embarrassedly.

Sherlock's hopes soared. _Could his symptoms really have been that short term. Was his John back now!_ He was so excited that he had no idea what to say and just stared back at John. Uncomfortable with the silence John continued to talk.

"Well I guess some of my memory is working," John said smiling and then his smile faltered as he thought of something. "That was just earlier right when you told me I had been hit in the head you know before I…had an...episode." John asked the fear evident in his voice as he faded out to a mumble on the last portion of the question.

"Yes, your observation was correct John you have just awoken from the sedative the nurse gave you." Sherlock said with a smirk trying to initiate their old banter. John only gave him a curious look however and tilted his head.

"Yea about that, why didn't you just give me a sedative before I got to that level of …agitation." John asked with some confusion.

"I'm not authorized to administer you a sedative." Sherlock stated with just as much confusion.

John squinted at him incredulously. "What kind of doctor isn't authorized to administer a simple sedative? Am I being treated with psychotherapy or something." John finished his voice showing a hint of disdain for that particular profession.

Sherlock was struck mute. What little hope had been growing that John had regained some recollection of who he was completely deteriorated. In retrospect he could see how his mind had completely disregarded the evidence in front of him that John hadn't miraculously recovered. All he could do was stare back at the injured man with his own pain shinning back in his eyes.

John who had always been an empathetic individual noticed in an instant. "What's wrong, what have I said. I was only kidding about the psychotherapy thing. You know the old rivalry of professions." John began to mumble attempting to fix the emotional pain with no idea how he had caused it. After a moment of silence Sherlock gathered himself into action again.

"I should call the nurse now he said to notify him when you awoke again." Sherlock stated getting up and walking around to the other side of John where the call button was located.

"Wait," John said grabbing Sherlock's hand before he could grab the call button. Sherlock's nerve endings sparked at the sensation, the room labeled John, which he had spent so much effort deleting earlier exploded back into existence in his mind. Sherlock briefly shut his eyes against the sudden and confusing flood of emotions. When he opened his eyes again the ever-empathetic John must have seen some element of the emotion because he gave Sherlock an apologetic look and hesitantly released his wrist.

"Please tell me who you are?" John asked. Sherlock was distracted as he tried to again suppress the unwanted emotions and didn't acknowledge the question.

"Please," John asked again. "I won't freak out like earlier." he added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Internally Sherlock was finding it impossible this time to completely delete his emotional attachment to John and decided that for the moment he would simply have to settle for suppressing the associated emotions. As he finished with this task he looked outward to see John give him an awkward chuckle and an expectant look.

"Sorry what was that?" Sherlock asked distractedly. John again gave him a concerned look and said "I was asking who you were?"

"Sherlock Holmes" He returned still distractedly, pressing the call button and then pressing it again when none of the lights turned on to give him feedback if the button worked.

"I'll just go look for a nurse myself shall I?" He stated jumping at the opportunity to get some space to deal with the confusing swirl of emotions in his head. He then swept out of the room too quickly for John to voice a complaint.

As he strode off down the hallway he replayed the memory of John grasping his hand. Why had he had such a strong emotional response to such a simple stimulus? It wasn't as though John had never touched his hand before. He himself had grabbed John's hand on multiple occasions in order to drag him off in the correct direction when chasing a criminal. Why had this been any different?

Sherlock was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't see Nurse Karen and almost walked straight into her.

"Mr. Holmes is your friend awake is that why the call button was pressed?" Karen asked helpfully. "Michael mentioned that he had told you to call us the next time he woke up."

"Yes, I couldn't tell if the call button was working." Sherlock answered briskly turning to follow her back to Johns room. Then remembering his analysis from earlier added, "I believe he is having some vision problems you need to check his acuity and range of vision."

Karen gave a smirk, which Sherlock didn't see from behind her, but she still answered in a sympathetic voice. "I will be sure to give him the full battery of tests to ensure we don't overlook anything. Dr. Barlow will also be by in the morning and will double check those tests." The nurse finished as they reached Johns door again.

They found the injured doctor still awake and playing idly with the frayed ends of his hospital blanket. He looked up with interest as the two entered his room.

"Hi John, My name is Amanda Karen and I will be your nurse during the night. How are you feeling?" She said with a gentle but non-patronizing tone.

"Well the head hurts a bit" John said with a self-conscious smile and a chuckle.

Nurse Karen smiled back, "Well that is probably to be expected."  
>She then began to examine John and the two of them kept up a kindhearted banter. It was the sort of sympathetic give in take, which, Sherlock guessed, is only possible between two people who have such companionate personalities. Sherlock decided, he didn't like it, and slumped into the couch to sulk watching intently as the examination continued.<p> 


	13. Control

**Well I let myself get bogged down in trying to understand the medical diagnosis I was going to use but ended up having to abandon that because I'm not a Doctor. So I apologize if the medical information isn't very accurate in the next couple of parts. I also tried to ensure that I had a decent amount of writing to upload this time. Please review the feedback will help me decided which way to go with the story. ****  
><strong>

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><p>Nurse Karen moved efficiently through all the necessary checks and tests with John. She finished up by annotating everything on his chart and switching his IV drip to a new bag.<p>

"Sherlock, could I speak with you for a moment outside?" Karen asked as she removed her gloves throwing them in the bin at the foot of the bed as she left the room. Sherlock followed her wearily not sure he wanted to hear what she had to say.

"As you already noticed John has lost a significant chunk of time due to his trauma. Post-traumatic amnesia is a common occurrence and often fades as a patient recovers from their coma so at the moment this is no cause for worry. However, it does mean that mentally and emotionally John is in a very fragile state. Try not to put pressure on him to remember things." She explained once they had stepped out into the hallway. "Also you were right about his vision, it appears as though he is having difficulty processing writing as well as having some spatial awareness problems. Doctor Barlow will be able to better explain the reasons for this and how rehabilitation may be able to help improve these problems. The key thing to remember is that John is going to be frustrated with his current state especially with no external wounds that he can see. As far as he understands yesterday he was a Soldier in the middle of a war zone." She paused to allow him to take in all the information.  
>Feeling truly vulnerable for one of the first times in a long time Sherlock opened his mouth but didn't know what to say. After a moment like that (a stunningly long amount of time for a Holmes to collect his thoughts) he asked, "What am I suppose to do? He doesn't even know who I am." Nurse Karen gave him a sad smile. "Just be there to support him and help him as he struggles to relearn who both of you are. He is even more frightened and confused than you at the moment. Feel free to page us if you need anything at all." She stated the last bit as she turned to head back to the nurses station.<p>

_He bristled a little at her presumption that he was frightened, out of his depth maybe but…o who was he kidding he was terrified. More and more it seems as if his negligence may have caused permanent damage to John Watson's mind. In his view the most important part of a person. _He took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning and heading back into the room. He hesitated for a brief second deciding if he would sit beside the bed again or on the couch. In the end he chose the couch to give John his space.

John was awake still and back to fiddling with his bedding again. An awkward silence fell over the room, which Sherlock greatly resented. Since the first day of knowing each other John and Sherlock had easily been able to share a quiet room while both working on separate tasks without the silence becoming uncomfortable.

In an attempt probably to relieve the tension of the quiet John spoke first. "So…I'm back in London then, you said St. Barth's?" He asked shifting in the bed to look at Sherlock.

"Yes," Sherlock said with a nod of his head.

"…and its actually 2010 not 2008." John added the shock regarding this fact still evident in his voice.

"Yes, its October 12 2010, well almost the 13th at this point." He said consulting his internal clock. A silence again followed both men finding themselves lost within their own thoughts, yet pressured to keep talking by the weight of the silence.

"Is the war over then?" John asked hopeful curiosity coloring his voice.

Sherlock had never really cared or thought much about foreign politics but this once he wished all the troops were home so that he didn't have to crush the hope he now saw in his friends eyes.

"No, there are still forces in Afghanistan." Sherlock answered without looking John in the eye and choosing to not mention the fact that this past year had seen the most insurgent attacks since the war began.

When Sherlock finally looked up John was giving him a curious look.

"You know I know what she talked to you about out in the hallway. I am a doctor after all." He stated raising an eyebrow expectantly.

"I am aware of your profession." Sherlock replied in an attempt to avoid the confrontation.

"She told you to be careful of causing me any emotional stress by forcing me to remember things or talking about things that I wont remember. Probably talked about how I would be struggling to cope with the loss of such a large chunk of time. Or maybe how since my last memories are from the battlefield how I might have uncovered long buried psychological traumas…well did I miss anything?" He stated the hostility clearly evident in his voice.

Sherlock was even more hesitant now to say anything sensing that John was teetering on the precipice of something and not wanting to push him over. Aiming for nonchalance he replied "Id say you were fairly spot on Doctor Watson," As he stood and moved to turn the electric kettle on. John's anger was interrupted by his curiosity.

"What are you doing?" He asked trying to sit up so that he could see what Sherlock was doing at the cabinet across the room.

"Making tea obviously, don't be dull John." Sherlock stated desperately attempting to use the force of his personality to distract John from whatever argument he had been attempting to start moments earlier.

"Tea in the face of adversity, how very British." John grumbled crossing his arms in frustration as Sherlock continued to ignore him not allowing him to continue his tirade.

"Well it is your habit of dealing with problems not mine," Sherlock stated as he placed the two teacups on the bedside table and took a seat once again in the chair by the bed.

John gave him a suspicious glance and then brought the mug to his lips to take a hesitant sip. He let out a satisfied sigh after the taste; it was exactly how he liked his tea. "This tea is perfect," John said with a slight smile as he took another liberal sip.

"Earl grey with a splash of milk and two sugars on long days." Sherlock rattled off the observation he had not even realized he had retained until he went to make the tea. He hesitantly returned John's smile and the two continued to finish their tea the silence between them a little more companionable than it had been earlier. After a couple of minutes of silence John spoke up.

"I went to take a nap after finishing my inventory." John stated out of the blue. Sherlock looked up at him expectantly waiting for him to elaborate. "The last thing I remember. I had just gotten back from a late rotation and after I finished restocking my kit bag I headed to my CHU (Compact Housing Unit) to take a nap." He explained. "It seems so strange it's as if I went to take a nap and woke up two years later with what feels like the worlds worst hangover. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that I have lost two years of my life." He added as an afterthought shaking his head slightly at what still felt like an absurd concept. Sherlock wasn't sure what to say in response he felt like any reply he would give would put pressure on John to remember something. After a moment or two John spoke again. "So where is Harry anyhow?" John asked with some confusion having just noticed the absence of his Sister. Sherlock was thankful that he had set his tea down at the moment because he wasn't sure he would have refrained from spitting the drink across the room in shock. Thankfully he settled for biting his tongue and schooling his features to remain neutral as he searched his mind for everything he knew about Harry, which was practically nothing, that he could supply John as an excuse. Finally, _and rather lamely, _Sherlock thought afterward he stated "She's been informed but she was in America on a business trip."

"ah" John made a non-committal noise of acknowledgement simply taking the information in. "Probably best," he added, "she would have just made fun of me the whole time for…" He paused at the end of the statement looking confused and slightly embarrassed. "Did you already tell me what I did to injure myself and end up in here?"

Sherlock swallowed against the lump in his throat. He was trying to follow nurse Karen's advice but it just felt like he was constantly being forced to lie to John. "You slipped and ended up hitting your head on the corner of a table" _At least it was a half-truth this time._ Sherlock reassured himself.

John let out a snort of laughter. "God I sound like an old woman, at least I didn't break my hip or something." He chuckled shaking his head in embarrassment. "I guess that explains why my shoulder feels off I must have landed on it wrong when I hit the ground." He added.

"Maybe" Sherlock replied with another twinge of guilt. Another silence fell between the two men and Sherlock felt as though the weight had increased with his guilt at…everything. He proceeded to sip his tea and avoid eye contact with John.

**John's POV**

John observed the stranger, or at least that's what he seemed to him, sitting in the chair by his bed. His clothing seemed very expensive and his habits and way of speaking were very posh. John really couldn't figure out what kind of connection could have brought himself and this stranger so close. He had to assume they were close; the man was waiting by his hospital bed and seemed to know him well. John couldn't figure out what kind of relationship they had?_ Was he a friend from the military that would explain how he met someone so clearly outside his socio-economic status. Yet, the man didn't really seem to carry himself like a Soldier. Maybe he had gotten out of the Army and Sherlock was a Doctor he worked with. Ah but he had seemed confused when I asked why he didn't give me the sedative. Who was he? He was clearly a handsome young man and it seemed strange to John that he had nowhere else to be besides sitting by his hospital bed. John was almost afraid to ask, the man seemed to be avoiding discussing himself at all. He had only distractedly given him his name and what about the way he had reacted to my grabbing of his wrist earlier? _John contemplated all of this although he was stopped from following the thoughts any further when the door was pushed open and Nurse Karen came in carrying a tray with hospital food on it.

"Hi John," She said with a smile as she walked in the room. "I know it is late but I figured since you were awake we should go ahead and see if you can stomach some food." She maneuvered the hospital table from the corner so that the food was sitting in front of him and she helped him adjust his pillows so that he was sitting up a little more.

"This looks foul." Sherlock stated. He looked up to see that the man had removed the cover from his food and was poking at the food with the spork. Nurse Karen gave a disapproving look and shooed Sherlock away from the plate. The grown man then proceeded to, what could only be described as, sulk like a child, and returned to sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and occasionally directing glares at Nurse Karen. The nurse ignored the man as she took the cover off the smaller containers on the tray and throwing them in the trash. He stopped her though when she began to cut up the piece of meat on his plate into smaller pieces. He was damned if he was going to have someone treat him like a baby. He gave the nurse the old "Watson smile" and assured her that he could handle it. The Nurse gave him a smile back checked his IV line real quick and then left the two men to their silence again.

He spared a glance over at the man sprawled across the couch who was now glaring at the ceiling tiles. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the comical image.

"Hey mate I think you can stop trying to burn holes in the ceiling she left." John said still laughing.

"You can't honestly be planning to eat that garbage can you?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"Hey I've never been one to turn down a free meal" He responded with a smile and a laugh. However the laughter died on his lips when he reached for the spork sitting on the tray in front of him and watched as his hand traced a jerky path through the air towards the plate seemingly oblivious of the commands he was giving it. He shot a quick glance over to Sherlock to see if he had noticed but thankfully the man was still glaring at the ceiling. It took him two more attempts before he successfully grabbed the spork. He then knew he wanted to get the utensil into the mashed potatoes but his arm was choppy in following his commands eventually making it into the potatoes after a lot of unnecessary pauses and sideways movement. He again glanced over to see if Sherlock had noticed but the man appeared to be in some kind of meditation on the couch now with his hands steepled under his chin. John was partially relieved to find that when he moved the mouthful of food to his mouth he encountered less problems, his hand was still shaky but the motion seemed closer to what he was mentally telling his muscles to do. This awkward pattern continued for two more bites until the fourth time he was maneuvering the spork to the mash potatoes his last jerky movement was too forceful and he ended up splashing the potatoes, some of it landing on his face. Running his hand down his face in frustration he angrily stated attempting to cover up his embarrassment "Alright you were right this hospital food is rubbish." He then clumsily pushed the tray away from the bed.

"Well then you are lucky that I can supply you with some contraband food then." Sherlock stated with a mischievous smirk as he sat up on the couch. John chuckled as he watched the man gracefully move across the room to the cool box and shuffle through its contents. He returned a moment later with a sandwich bag and a tubaware container with melon slices. Removing the hospital food from the tray to make room and sliding the table back in front of him again. He was slightly startled when Sherlock then proceeded to pull out the sandwich from the bag and ripping a piece of it off and proceeding to nibble at the edges of the sandwich. In response to his raised eyebrows the man simply shrugged his shoulders stating, "Well technically it is my food." As Sherlock was distracted with his part of the sandwich, He slowly maneuvered his hand to grab the food. However unlike the potatoes now that he had grabbed the sandwich he was free to eat without as much awkward or jerky movements. His hand shook some but he was sure he could pass it off as fatigue. When he finished the sandwich and was ready to eat a melon slice he was glad to see that Sherlock appeared to be distracted searching for something on his cell phone. He was again thankful that once he grabbed a slice no significant coordination was necessary to enjoy the food.

After two more melon slices he was full with a contented sigh he leaned back into the bed happy that so far his body had not reacted poorly to solid food. He could feel his body getting tired again as he allowed himself to relax back into the bed. Sherlock again grabbed another melon slice out of the container as he continued to search his phone and he wasn't sure why this action made him genuinely happy. He wondered if this man regularly shared food off of his plate? The behavior did make him seem a little less posh and a little more childish but somehow the behavior seemed right to John. He contemplated the difficulties he had faced with coordinating his movements. The medical training in him supplied Ataxia as an explanation of his symptoms and also explained why he couldn't read the chart earlier. The only question was if the problem was going to be permanent. He yawned as he pulled the blankets up around him as he thought there really wasn't much he could do about it at the moment. He fell asleep shortly after that, mumbling out a "gnight" to the man in the chair beside him before his eyes shut.

**Sherlock's POV  
><strong>He contemplated the swirling motion of the dregs in his mug of tea as he yet again thought about all the ways he had screwed up and caused John to be in this situation. He looked up as he heard someone fumbling with the door outside the room. He wasn't exactly happy to see nurse Karen again now that she was just another bimbo who was constantly flirting with John. _Great now she is even calling him John, what happened to her professionalism, when he was in a comma he was Mr. Watson. _He rolled his eyes and moved to get a closer look at what she had brought John to eat. He was definitely disappointed in the quality everything appeared to be varying shades of mashed or pureed items with an unappealing hunk of some unknown meat. He poked at one of the lumpy piles with the plastic utensil on the tray and commented, "This looks foul." His culinary judgments however were not appreciated and Nurse Karen rudely dismissed him from John's side. All he had done was attempt to look out for his friend's well being by demanding that he be served proper food. He glared at the ceiling attempting to ignore the infuriating woman's existence.

"Hey mate I think you can stop trying to burn holes in the ceiling she left." He hears John state with a laugh.

"You can't honestly be planning to eat that garbage can you?" He asks him incredulously.

"Hey I've never been one to turn down a free meal" John replies. Sherlock is about to reply that he isn't as bad as Mycroft when he is distracted by the odd jerky nature in which John's hand moves to attempt to pick up the utensil missing completely. He quickly returns to appearing to star at the ceiling knowing that John is a proud man and will want to ensure no one saw his mishap. His concern grows as he watches out of his peripheral vision as John struggle to grasp the plastic utensil. He considers the recent brain trauma information he has gathered trying to determine some way that he can help. He notices that once he has an object John has less issue with the movement of moving the food into his mouth. This gives him an idea of some better options for John to attempt to eat but he knows he cant draw attention to the actual problem or he will offend John's pride. He sees his opportunity when John finally pushes aside the hospital food. He moves to the icebox that his brother's man had brought by earlier and searches through the options there. The grapes are a definite no as well as the bag of pretzels. However he spots a sandwich and a container of thickly sliced melon and thinks that will do nicely. He realizes that the sandwich bag will be a problem but works around that by pulling out the sandwich in order to steal himself apiece. He ensures that when John goes to grab he sandwich he is sufficiently "distracted". _I suppose this is one slight advantage of John not remembering who I am and what I am capable of _he considers to himself. He decides then that he won't tell John his profession and talent until the man remembers or asks. He pulls out his smart phone again trying to determine what specific motor coordination problem might be affecting John. He looks up when he hears John mumble a sleepy good night to him. The man is resting again and he hopes that maybe when he wakes up next time he will remember everything. Although Sherlock is curious now when exactly John and Harry's relationship went south? He had always assumed that it had been an long term rivalry like himself and Mycroft but it appeared now that the problems between John and Harry had developed within the last two years.

**Need to know the contact information for John's sister-SH**

He quickly sent the text to Mycroft knowing his brother probably had the information stored away in one of his files. Sure enough Sherlocks phone buzzed with a reply within a few minutes.

**020-9218-3323 Do you plan to contact her or shall I have someone possessing interpersonal skills contact her? – MH**

**Your wit is boundless, and no I will deal with the matter.-SH **

He rolled his eyes at his brother's idea of a joke. He would wait a little while but if John didn't regain his memories he would contact Harry. John had never really talked to him about their relationship so beyond his original deductions he didn't have much detail on the situation. Perhaps this accident might give them the opportunity to mend things.


	14. Misunderstanding the Facts

**Two long chapters back to back. I hope this makes up for my inability to update in any sort of regular fashion. Please let me know what you think of the latest developments. **

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><p>John sat up quickly gasping for breath his heart rate monitor beating quickly but not fast enough to set off the alarm. Already the details of the nightmare, which had woken him up, were fading leaving him with nothing but a vague sense of panic and fear. It was frustrating though because although it had been a nightmare he was sure that part of it had been a memory. He shifted in the bed his shoulder seemed to throb in protest at how he had been sleeping. He glanced over to the couch to see that his constant companion, since waking up in this new when, was still in his room. The man appeared to be reading from his phone still. John wondered for a moment if he hadn't been asleep very long but then he noticed the daylight streaming through the blinds of his room.<p>

"Do you ever even sleep?" He asks the man his voice raspy and harsh.

Sherlock gives him a soft smile as he gets up "My mind is a machine constantly stuck in overdrive John." He then hands him the glass of water with the straw in it. After John had drank his fill Sherlock then moved over to the blinds and opens them a bit allowing the sunlight to flow into the room.

"You realize that's not really an answer right?" He chuckles in response.

"Well then in simple terms then, yes I do sleep but not as often as you." Sherlock replied as he began to prepare two mugs of tea. John closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sunshine on his face through the window. He smiled as he realized that at least he was done with his deployment now. Not exactly early but at least he didn't have any memory of dealing with the last several months of it. He was awakened from his reverie at the sound of two mugs being placed on the bedside table. He sighed with satisfaction as he sipped at the tea prepared just the way he liked to drink his tea in the mornings. The silence between himself and the stranger, no he knew his name, Sherlock seemed a lot less strained this morning. John did have to wonder at the ability of the man to know what he would need or want without him having to ask. How could he have developed such a strong friendship in under two years? Although come to think of it how was this man granted overnight visitation privileges? He knew for a fact that St. Barts only allowed that for family members and_….no it wasn't possible…was it? _He had experimented a little in university even dated a bloke for almost a month but that was just university he hadn't really found interest in a man that way since he joined the military. Although if he was honest with himself it wasn't so much that he hadn't had feelings as much as he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge such feelings. It just wasn't a great idea considering the living arrangements of being in the military. Not to mention he had seen how those who had been open about their interests had been treated. Since he more often than not was attracted to women it had never really been much of a sacrifice to make.

John watched Sherlock as the other man quietly sipped his tea and continued to read from his phone. He really was a handsome man with the sharp angles of his face giving him an almost alien beauty and the cupid bow lips looked very kissable. John shook his head to clear the thoughts. _No I am clearly still disoriented from my head injury neither of us have rings._ He thinks to himself, blushing slightly at the assumptions his mind had leapt to. Although considering the way the man had avoided discussing how he knew him and the fact that the nursing staff doesn't want to rush him into remembering things it is possible that their rings were removed to keep him from freaking out. Which is clearly what he was doing now. All right, he needed to calm down he would take his cues from the other man regarding their relationship. Either way the man clearly cared a lot about him if he was going to wait by his bedside for him to recover.

**Sherlock's POV**

Sherlock watched John with concern when he gasped awake but from past experience Sherlock knew that John preferred to be given space after awaking from a nightmare; and when possible for the entire ordeal not to be acknowledged at all. So Sherlock continued to read, or at least pretend to read the article on his phone. He couldn't help but smile at how familiar John's words were to how he normally greeted the detective some mornings. He set about moving around the room in order to help make John comfortable and to distract his own mind from its desire to test and see if John had remembered anything during the night. Yet again he found himself stealing John's coping mechanism and making them both a cup of tea. When he looked back up at John after enjoying a long and refreshing sip of his drink he could tell that the man was extremely stressed out by whatever thoughts were running through his mind. However, since he had not been watching the man long enough he wasn't sure what was causing him stress and he seemed to have calmed himself down in short time.

They both sat in silence for a bit just enjoying their tea and trying to figure out a way to ask the hundreds of questions that were buzzing around in their heads. At the same moment they both began to talk

"So can you…" They both stopped, the same startled look on their face at having said the same exact thing at the same moment. After staring at each other for a moment they both begin to laugh like school children unable to stop laughing even though the joke wasn't that funny. Always the polite one of the pair John gasps to catch his breath before asking with a giant grin still on his face, "sorry, so what were you about to say then."

Regaining his composure Sherlock looks up at him almost apologetically. "I know the nurse said not to push you but I cant help wondering since you woke up this morning. Can you remember anything new?" John can hear the unsaid 'do you remember me' and he feels horrible that he will have to crush the hope he can see in this man's eyes. Thinking of his earlier realization he thinks maybe I can test the water and meet him halfway. Although he wasn't ready yet to hear the whole truth if his realization was correct.

"I think, well its more like a feeling, but we live together…right?" John asks rather than states. A part of him, the part that had him dating only women after joining the military, had him hoping that Sherlock would deny this question. Inform him that they had never lived together. However, the beautiful smile that broke across Sherlock's face told John that his guess had been correct they did live together. The cynical and scared part of him reminded him that he could still be wrong maybe they were just flat mates.

"Yes John!" Sherlock exclaims with a smile. It was almost ironic that Sherlock Holmes was falling for the manipulation of a deduction as a shared memory. A trick that he had often used against possible witnesses when conducting his detective work, however, at the moment he was too happy with the belief that John's memories might be returning to have noticed.

"Do you remember anything about our flat then." Sherlock asks eagerly. Briefly forgetting the instructions the nurse had given him in his excitement.

John closes his eyes trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the man's use of the word 'our'. He tries to remember a flat or home of his here in London, although all that comes to mind is his old dorm while he was at Uni and his CHU in Afghanistan.

"No, I'm sorry like I said it was just a feeling that maybe we had lived together" John mumbled in reply genuinely upset to see the taller man's hope crushed on account of him.

The two sit in silence for a while. "The address is 221B Baker Street" Sherlock said after realizing that he now had something he could talk to the Doctor about. "It's a nice Victorian style flat in Westminster and our land lady is Mrs. Hudson." He adds with a fair amount of nostalgia as he looks around the hospital room he has been cooped up in for the last couple of days. "Actually she brought us by some snacks, she has a habit of doting on the two of us." He offers the mentioned biscuits to John who takes one smiling as he realizes they are his favorite flavor.

"Yes, she knows you have a taste for those," Sherlock states in response to his unstated observation.

"Everyone seems to know me better than I really know myself at the moment." John chuckles a bit bitterly.

"I apologize John I should have followed the nurses advice and not forced memories on you." Sherlock mumbled after a moment of silence. A part of him took note of the fact that only John seemed capable of making him feel guilty for causing others emotional pain especially, if John was the one feeling the pain. He placed the information in John's room within his mind palace which at this point he had to accept was impossible to delete.

The two were spared from another awkward silence by a knock at the door. Followed shortly after by the entrance of Dr. Barlow.

"Gentlemen, how are we doing this morning?" She asked as she picked up Johns chart to catch up on everything. Neither man really feels like talking at the moment but as John never likes to be rude he provides a mumbled "good, thank you doctor," in response.

After taking a bit to digest the information on Johns chart Dr. Barlow places the clipboard back in its place and clasps her hands together and states "Alright Mr. Watson, I just need to perform a couple of tests to confirm some diagnosis before I give you a run down of your current condition."

John sits up in his bed attempting to look ready for anything although he is not excited for what he is pretty sure is going to be an embarrassing display as Dr. Barlow confirms the diagnosis he already gave himself of mild ataxia. He looks nervously between the doctor and Sherlock the confident look on his face faltering for a moment.

John tries not to audibly sigh with relief when Doctor Barlow notices his increased distress and guesses at the possible cause.

"Mr. Holmes, the rehabilitation director still needs to speak with you regarding John's personality and demeanor in order to develop a plan of action regarding his treatment. If you head down to the nurses station and let them know you need to speak with a Mr. Lloyd they will show you to his office." She states with a smile.

"What! I can surely talk with him later, I'd also like to hear your explanations of Johns current condition." Sherlock states indignantly, glaring at Dr. Barlow wondering if she is not still angry at his deductions of her from earlier. He is about to start in on the female Doctors' personal life again when John stops him.

"Go ahead and see Mr. Lloyd Sherlock, I'm sure you are tired of being stuck in my hospital room all the time." John says smiling reassuringly at him.

"…Alright John." Sherlock replies as he gives John a half confused and half betrayed look before standing to leave the room. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He mumbles before leaving.

John feels a stab to the gut at the pain that had momentarily flashed across Sherlock's face before he left. John could only remember a short amount of time with the man but he had a feeling that it was rare for many things to reach the man at that level.

He wishes that he could have felt comfortable with Sherlock staying in the room for these tests, but as close as they may have been before he lost his memories, to John right now it just felt like having a stranger watch him at his most vulnerable state and he couldn't handle that right now.

"Thank you," he practically whispered to Doctor Barlow as he stared intently at his lap after the door shut behind Sherlock.

"I know you don't remember him right now, but he really does care about you a lot." The female doctor stated giving him a sad smile.

"I am aware of that," John stated defensively, "but I…I just can't deal with him seeing this. I already determined yesterday that I have Ataxia." John states with a defeated sigh. Dr. Barlow raises her eyebrows in response to this.

"O…from the notes it appeared as though it may have just been slight damage to the occipital lobe but you think it could be worse?" She asked. John simply gave a curt nod in reply.

"Alright then you're a medical man you know we still need to conduct the necessary tests to confirm the diagnosis" she said moving to his bed side to begin the initial physical exam.

Sherlock felt lost after being dismissed from John's room. His whole purpose for the last couple of days had been in staying as close to John as possible and ensuring he was all right. He knew logically it made sense that John would feel uncomfortable with him around for an exam since to John he was a stranger. However, this ever annoying emotional part of him still felt slightly betrayed at the gesture. He shook his head and allowed himself to return to the mask of indifference he wore the majority of his life and headed for the nurses station. They in turn informed him that he could find Mr. Lloyd the rehabilitation specialist in room C017.

When Sherlock arrived at the room it looked very different from any other room he had seen in the hospital. It looked like a bizarre gymnastics classroom there were parallel bars, a climbing wall, foam mats, and balance balls scattered throughout the room. However there were also strange contraptions with thick straps and padding hanging from large pivoting metal bars, wheel chairs, crutches, and other medical equipment in the room as well. There was a man with a leg missing climbing on the wall in the corner and a nurse was helping a young boy with a back brace do leg stretches. After taking this all in Sherlock moved further into the room heading to the door he had noticed with a placard stating 'Mr. Lloyd, Lead Rehabilitation Specialist'. After knocking Sherlock went ahead and let himself in the room.

"Ah, Can I help you?" The middle aged American man with dark brown hair and a horribly ugly stripped tie asked as he took off his reading glasses and looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock quickly observed the man determined he was fairly plain with nothing that interesting about him before moving into the room to occupy the seat across from Mr. Lloyd's desk with his usual flare for the dramatic.

"Please come right in." The man says sarcastically as he puts his paperwork to the side to give Sherlock his full attention.

"Dr. Barlow has informed me that you wish to speak to me about John's personality before this accident so that you can determine an adequate rehabilitation program for him." Sherlock answers the man's earlier question in a bored tone of voice.

"So I take it you are Mr. Holmes then," the man states. "Yes it can be critical in memory loss cases to have an understanding of the patients mental and physical capabilities before the accident in order to determine what exactly the end goal is regarding the patients recovery as well as to help in quickly recognizing when cognitive changes have occurred." Mr. Lloyd explained, rather redundantly Sherlock thought.

"Yes well what information do you need from me, do you have a questionnaire or something?" Sherlock asked anxious to get back to John's room.

"Um no…generally I start by just having the friends and family of the patient describe their love one to me. Just pretend you are explaining to a coworker why you are friends with John and what makes him so unique." He says with a smile.

"The few individuals who could be considered my coworkers are idiots and I avoid interactions with them whenever possible but I believe I understand your goal in this exercise." Sherlock states coldly and then closes his eyes in contemplation. Mr. Lloyd quirks an eyebrow at his strange response but just shrugs and decides to wait for Sherlock to begin speaking.

In his mind Sherlock is standing in the center of the room labeled John. It immediately has a calming affect on him and his shoulders relax a little. He contemplates how to translate everything located here into a few sentences. After taking a moment to breath in the faint memory of the smell that is John's body spray. Sherlock begins rattling off facts as if he were deducing a body at a crime scene.

"John's a retired army Captain, as well as a military Doctor. He has PTSD and use to suffer from a psychosomatic limp. He has some slight anger management issues but only in situations where he feels his pride is threatened. He is an adrenaline junky who was only depressed after getting out of the military because he missed the thrill. Basically, John is a man of action. If you say danger he will come running. He is not afraid to hurt others in order to protect his friends but he is an extremely companionate man who doesn't like to see anyone suffer. He believes in heroes and the possibility for good in all people. He has this ability to make others want to live up to these romantic views of the world that he has. John simply put just makes people better. He can be nagging and tiresome at times when he is concerned about my health but it is always for the best. He is surprisingly accepting of the worse traits in me and can be a true Saint considering the things he has to deal with. He has this way of translating the tedious habits and customs of 'normal' people in a way that I can tolerate and understand. Everything about his personality is warm and caring even those stupid jumpers that he wears. Women throw themselves at him and everyone generally just wants to be his friend. When he is truly happy he has this way of smiling that…" Sherlock starts out with his description cold and distant however, as he slips further into memories and moments he has shared with John he becomes more emotional in his description. Finally stopping himself as he thinks of the way their eyes would sometimes meet when they shared an inside joke with each other. For the briefest of moments he feels the spark of hope that maybe there could be something between him and John. Its at this point that Mr. Lloyd subtly clears his throat pulling Sherlock's attention out of his mind palace and back to the matter at hand. When he returns his focus to Mr. Lloyd he sees that the man is giving him a sad smile and he hates him for it.

"Essentially John is highly companionate and is a thrill seeker." Sherlock summarizes attempting to re-establish his cold and distant demeanor.

"Ah well yes…" Mr. Lloyd begins attempting to move past the awkward stillness that had fallen over the room. "From that information it sounds like Mr. Watson will be dedicated to his rehabilitation if we can get him to buy into the program and understand the necessity of the various exercises to his improved health. However, it does sound like we may need to be slightly concerned about his anger issues especially if he finds himself embarrassed or ashamed of his lack of capabilities after this accident. Often times with head traumas patients who remember what they use to be capable of can become frustrated very quickly with their reduced mental capabilities and motor skills after first waking up. On top of that there is the possibility that the head trauma itself could cause emotional instability for the patient."

"So what exactly will his rehabilitation entail, and how long will he be stuck in hospital?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, the extent and location of his rehabilitation will be determined once Dr. Barlow has made a full assessment of all of John's symptoms. Then the two of us will sit down and determine a course of treatment." Mr. Lloyd explained. "Now I just need to ask you a few more detailed questions that will help in my personality assessment of John." He continued pulling out a sheet of paper to take notes on.

Back in his room John had finished doing various tests, which determined that he had unilateral ataxia meaning that the lack of muscle coordination was limited to his left side. It was soo much worse than just being clumsy on one side though it was as if there was a disconnect between his mind and his body at times. When Doctor Barlow had asked him to show how he would use his left hand to blow out a match he found himself miming smoking a cigarette for a few seconds until he could overrule the incorrect body motions. Quite frankly it was terrifying.

Now they had reached the part of the assessment that John was the most worried about, determining how much his ataxia was going to affect his gait and balance. Dr. Barlow helped him sit up in the bed and immediately the vertigo and nausea, which hadn't been a problem as long as he had remained prostrate, flared up to full force. Thankfully a trashcan was maneuvered in front of him before he empty his stomach of the little bit of tea and biscuits that he had eaten that morning.

"When ever your ready Doctor Watson," The other doctor stated in a calm and patient voice, "take as long as you need."

After several deep breaths of air with his eyes shut to settle himself, John gave a slight nod and lowered himself off the edge of the bed. Dr. Barlow had a firm grip underneath his right arm ready to catch him should his legs give out. John moved his right leg first with no real problem just a bit sluggish from nausea and having been immobile for a while. However when he went to move his left leg he saw that his foot dragged and the movements seemed clumsy and disjointed like the movements of his left arm. He grit his teeth and took another set of steps trying to will his body to cooperate but with the same results. In order to even be able to stand without Dr. Barlow's help he had to take a wide stance and would have to throw his arms out from time to time just to keep his balance. By the time he was helped back to the bed he had a sheen of sweat on his brow and felt utterly defeated. Dr. Barlow said something to him, probably some words of encouragement or something of the like, but he really could care less. Once he leaned back and his head hit the pillow again he was asleep shortly after.

Sherlock had gotten back upstairs as Dr. Barlow was leaving Johns room.

"Dr. Barlow a word." He called after her before she could head off down the hallway.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes, I trust you were able to provide Mr. Lloyd with the information he needed." She replied turning to meet him with a friendly smile.

"What are your conclusions?" He asked skipping straight to the point.

"John, appears to be suffering from uni-lateral ataxia. This means that he has reduced motor control on the left side of his body when preforming complex motor motions. It is important to understand this isn't the result of weakened muscles rather a weakened connection in the neurons which signal the muscles. This is also why he was having difficulty reading his chart earlier because his ocular muscles are affected as well. Rehabilitation can help individuals with this condition determine coping mechanisms and in some instances gain better motor control. Ataxia is normally hereditary but in rare instances can be caused by brain trauma. The issue is that generally when it is caused by brain trauma it is either chronic as well or the result of a treatable inflammation from an infection. We have scheduled John for a CT scan to check for inflammation and we have increased his antibiotics in the hopes that this is infection based." She explained checking from time to time to see that Sherlock was following.

"The good thing Mr. Holmes," She continued trying to soften the blow of the news. "is that he has a very mild case of ataxia. Even if his condition persists at the state it's at he will still be pretty much self-sufficient. He may have to learn how to do more things with his right hand and it may be necessary to use a cane to walk if we cant find ways to re-establish those motor controls but he should be able to lead a fairly normal life." She finished with a reassuring smile.

"John can't deal with a normal life, that was the problem last time." Sherlock says with a distant look. "That's why we are friends." Sherlock finished almost in a whisper before turning and returning to John's room. Dr. Barlow gave the man a sad look as he left then with a sigh she straightened her white coat, checked her clipboard and continued about her rounds.

Sherlock found John sound asleep when he entered the room. Dr. Barlow's words were still banging around in his head when he resumed his vigil next to Johns bed. He simply watched the man sleep for a moment or two, cataloguing the information. The more he thought about the things Dr. Barlow had said the worse he felt. He reached his hand out to grab John's pulse point again to have that reassurance but he stopped and simply placed his hand by Johns on the bed, their fingers barely touching. He knew he could not seek comfort that way anymore not now that John was a wake. He let his head rest on the mattress with a heavy sigh, hiding his face from Johns.

"I'm sorry John, I'm so sorry." He whispered repeatedly. He pressed his face further into the mattress as he felt moisture build in his eyes but he did not allow any tears to fall.

"I never deserved you John, you were far too good for me." Sherlock mumbled into the mattress as he closed his eyes and escaped once again into the John Watson room of his mind palace.

John Watson had been slowly drawn out of sleep by the movements of the mattress beside him. He heard the whispered apologies and felt the warmth of the man's hand resting near his own. The man's final mumbled confession seemed to confirm John's suspicions. Although after thinking about the possibility most of the day it didn't seem so bad. This man, Sherlock, seemed so interesting that John was rather excited to get to know him all over again. He felt terrible though realizing that this man clearly cared about him deeply and John couldn't remember a single thing about him. John felt his heart go out for the man after hearing the shaky and deep intake of breath, a sound John knew well from his time deployed, as that of a man trying desperately not to cry. He had to do something there had to be something he could do to ease this man's pain. Shifting slightly as if he were still sound asleep he moved his hand to the left the ataxia making the movement seem even more like a spasm during sleep. His hand now covered the other man's; he could feel the long thin musician's fingers underneath his own callused ones.  
>Sherlock tensed for a moment after the contact wondering if he should pull his hand back. Then he realized that Johns breathing had shifted slightly and the man was only pretending to sleep. He didn't understand emotions enough to understand what this gesture meant but he wasn't going to turn it down. He rubbed his thumb gently along the bottom of John's palm in return but played along as though he thought John was still asleep. Sherlock smiled into the mattress he truly did not deserve John Watson.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>So just on a side note Mr. Lloyd is based roughly of Wilson from House MD. Not really a reason for it other than thats who I kept picturing in the role. <strong>


	15. I Crave Puzzles

Mycroft Holmes gingerly sipped at the tea on his desk while he looked over the file his assistant had brought him. It was the latest update on Dr. John Watson's recovery. It appeared as though the good Doctors recovery was going to take some time given the amnesia and ataxia. He worried about Sherlock, he had never seen the younger man in the state that he was in when John Watson was first admitted to the hospital. He was going to have to rely on Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson to watch out for his brother until John could remember their friendship again. He knew any kind of meeting of his with Dr. Watson to discuss Sherlock's 'Danger Days' would likely threaten the friendship at least until Watson remembered more of his past. Mycroft had decided all of this, moments after completing his scan of the medical records; but he continued to stare at the file because a particular date mentioned had caught his eye and he was trying to determine why his mind had thought it significant. According to Dr. Barlow's notes John Watson could not remember anything having occurred before the morning of the 6th of November 2008. He continued to stare at the file for a moment longer before inspiration struck him. He pulled out a key unlocking a file cabinet at the base of his desk and flipping through the files tell he found a particular one. He had only ever looked at this file briefly once before and he took a second to recall the surprising memory associated with the event.

[flashback*** the night after John shoots the cabbie. John is out, having gone back to his old apartment to pack his things]

"Why are you here Mycroft, I just saw you last night? I feel I shouldn't have to be subjected to your presence two days in a row." Sherlock stated as Mycroft opened the door and entered the flat. The Detective didn't even turn around just continued to stare out the window and hold his violin underneath his chin. "As I said last night brother, I worry about you." Mycroft replied as he casually strolled across the room to stand behind Sherlock. "Also given your company last night I couldn't exactly give you this information then." He concluded as he placed a file onto the coffee table beside where Sherlock stood. The label on the file read 'CPT Watson, John H.'. The younger Holmes simply ignored him and proceeded to play 'Pop Goes the Weasel' on his violin. Giving an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes Mycroft tried again. "The man is just back from combat Sherlock, there will be…emotions. Perhaps you should fully understand what you're getting involved in." "I am aware of the PTSD Mycroft and I have already cured him of his psychosomatic limp so I fail to see the purpose of this visit." Sherlock said in a bored tone still playing the annoying nursery rhyme. "Just providing you with more information brother of mine, I know how loathed you are to reason with insufficient data." Mycroft replied with a twirl of his umbrella as he turned to leave the room. He was stopped however as he reached the door handle. "Mycroft," His brother stated stopping his violin playing. "I believe you have forgotten your file." Mycroft's mask of indifference slipped for a moment at this surprising turn of events. His brother would whine and complain at Mycroft's meddling but he had never before turned down additional information on a contact. Instead he used it as an opportunity to validate his deduction skills and see if he could figure out things that Mycroft's people could not. Slowly Mycroft turned to collect the file and gave his brother a curious look as he did so. "It seems the good doctor is not the only one affected by this new living arrangement." He stated as he turned to leave for a second time. Sherlock simply ignored him and proceeded to play the nursery rhyme again but in a different key.

"As Mycroft paged through the file it only took a few minutes to find the information that had been tickling at the back of his mind ever since he read the medical report. There on the summary of events regarding CPT John Watson's second deployment to Afghanistan read the lines: "7 November 2008 – CPT Watson declared MIA after the SRR base he was assigned to was overrun. 11 December 2008 – CPT Watson and surviving members of SRR element regain contact.

"It would seem that if Dr. Watson was going to get his memories back he may be forced to properly address the trauma that likely occurred during those 34 days. Given the fact that he remained in theater for an additional four months after recovering from the incident, it is likely that he never appropriately addressed the issue and now with his recent brain trauma his mind has seized on the opportunity to completely repress the memories. This would surely make Dr. Watson's recovery so much more…complicated. Quickly determining what needed to be done Mycroft returned the file to its drawer and paged his secretary.

* * *

><p>"John woke up to the sound of violin music, it was still rather somber but it had an undercurrent of happiness and that made him smile slightly. A little later the nurse came in with breakfast consisting of oatmeal, soupy looking eggs and a circular patty of breakfast sausage.<p>

"Sherlock took one look at the meal and determined that this hospital was full of imbeciles. He then decided that he might want to murder a few of them when he saw the look of absolute defeat that John gave the food before casting furtive glances towards Sherlock as he put up his violin. Not wishing to draw out John's suffering unnecessarily Sherlock quickly moved over and pulled the bedside tray away and off to the side. "Hey!" John shouted out in protest although his eyes betrayed his relief at not having to feel like an infant, incapable of feeding himself. "I can't in good conscience allow you to eat that." Sherlock stated with a shrug as he moved over to the tin of baked goods from Mrs. Hudson and tossed a large banana nut muffin into Johns lap.  
>"I can assure you Mrs. Hudson's cooking will always outshine hospital food. Although, I suppose that's not saying much." Sherlock stated as he moved to the couch gracefully collapsing into a cross-legged position and pulling his laptop out checking through his emails for case requests that he could work on from the Hospital. "Mhh that is good" John said through a mouthful of muffin with a giant grin on his face. After a couple more bites he gave Sherlock a quizzical look. "Aren't you going to eat anything?" He asked realizing the man had only eaten a few stolen bits of his food yesterday during lunch.<br>"Initially Sherlock didn't even answer his question. However, when John asked the question again Sherlock gave him a dismissive hand wave. "No need, working John" He added distractedly as he typed out a stream of deductions in reply to a ridiculously obvious case request.  
>"Sherlock as your Doctor I'm ordering you to eat something!" John commanded the force and cadence of the sentence rolling off his tongue like it was a habitual request. Sherlock's head snapped up in response to that sentence, "John…?" He asked with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. John smirked and rubbed the back of his neck, "why do I get the feeling that I have to say that sentence to you a lot." He asked with a chuckle.<br>"Well you are a very persistent Doctor at times," Sherlock said springing up from the couch to collect the container of grapes from the chill box before returning to his seat. He then proceeded to happily toss grapes into his mouth, giving John a large toothy grin as he did.

"John nearly blushed at the gorgeous smile the other man directed at him as he ate the grapes. John couldn't help but return the giant smile; he had remembered something finally. Albeit had been nothing concrete just a flash of senses the smell of cooking bacon and eggs and the memory of yelling that very same sentence in reply to a distracted Sherlock refusing to eat.

"After finishing their respective breakfasts Sherlock returned to checking his email and John discovered the remote to the telly hidden amongst the clutter on the bedside table. Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making comments about the programming. He was afraid if he displayed his deductive skills to John too soon before he remembered enough he might scare John away this time around.  
><em>I'm going to need to bring up what I do soon though, what if John remembers a crime scene before he remembers us as friends. He will think I'm a crazed psychopath.<em>He was just so scared that this time when John heard him deduce he would no longer find it brilliant and would tell him to 'Piss Off' just like all the rest. He sighed mentally and tried to tune out the crap telly as best he could. The two passed a couple of hours like that before two nurses came in to take John for the CT scan that Dr. Barlow had mentioned the day before.

John returned from the scan in a foul mood. Whatever the contrast material was that they had injected him with for the scan was giving him a pounding headache and the nurses had been treating him as though he were slow explaining each individual step that they were going to preform even after he had told them that he was a Doctor and didn't need an explanation. As the nurses left the room he looked over at the couch to see that Sherlock appeared to be in the exact same place on the couch he had been in when he left still typing furiously on his laptop. The incessant clacking of the keyboard seemed to be getting louder in volume as John's headache worsened.  
>"Must you type so loudly!" He snapped rubbing at his temples.<br>Startled, Sherlock looked up and gave John a quick once over.

"Ah perhaps it would be best if I sought out a nurse to increase your pain medication." Sherlock stated placing the laptop down beside him on the couch.

"No, that's not necessary it's just a bit of pressure it will go away in a few minutes." John replied tersely.

"John, if you are experiencing increased cranial pressure I need to alert the nursing staff it could…" Sherlock started moving to press the call button attached to John's bed but he was interrupted by Johns angry response. "Damn the pain medication! I am not an idiot and if I'm not mistaken I am the Doctor out of the two of us. It is just pressure from the contrast and if I feel I need additional medical attention. I will. Let. You Know." John stated forcefully emphasizing each word of the final sentence.

"A heavy silence fell over the room after that with John rubbing at his temples still and Sherlock shifting awkwardly from foot to foot unsure how to proceed with the situation.  
>"After a couple of minutes like that John let out a heavy sigh as he laid back on the bed.<p>

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just stressed is all," John said turning his head to look at Sherlock. "Just go ahead and sit." John said nodding towards the chair by his bed. Then seeing Sherlock still hesitate, he chuckled mirthlessly and said, "Hey I promise not to try and bite your head off again just take a seat."

Sherlock nodded his head siting down and running a nervous hand through his hair. _This is one of those emotionally charged moments, when he would normally have looked to John for guidance on what he had said wrong, but that wasn't an option now._ "So did they tell you the results of your scan?" Sherlock asked attempting to break the silence.

"No the technician will likely go over the scans with Dr. Barlow before they make any kind of conclusions." John answered.

The silence returned and Sherlock scanned the room looking for something to break the tension and demonstrate he could be a good friend to John. His eyes landed on the chart hanging from the foot of the bed.

"Would you like me to read your chart to you." He asked John hesitantly. He knew that John didn't want to address the fact that his eyes couldn't focus on the writing on the pages, but at the same time he also knew that John was desperate for information and a sense of control. Sherlock deduced that his desire to have some control over his medical information would rule out over the dislike of needing someone to read to him.

"It would probably be best if you checked over their procedures since given the food they keep trying to feed you I'm not entirely certain they aren't trying to kill you." Sherlock added with an air of conspiracy to his voice, calculating that a little humor would help John accept the help. As usual his calculations were correct. John chuckled in response to the joke, "go ahead then, lets see what the damage is." Sherlock noted that John was rigid with tension, as though he was waiting to be dealt a blow. Although John wanted to know the information on his chart he was afraid to hear the reality of his situation laid out in medical jargon he would be unable to deny.

After moving to grab the chart Sherlock made a gesture of scanning the top row or so of information. "Ah well there seems to be some hope for them yet, it appears as though they were able to successfully categorize you as a 34 year old male Caucasian weighing 10.8 Stone and 174cm" Sherlock stated with a sarcastic nod of stern approval reading the information as though it were a revelation.

"You ridiculous git, just read the chart." John said with a full on laugh this time, letting himself relax back into the pillows. Sherlock gave himself a self-satisfied smile before proceeding. His smile faded as he reached notes regarding John's initial condition upon arrival to the hospital but he maintained a neutral voice knowing that John as a medical man needed to know the information. John closed his eyes as he listened to the rich baritone voice read to him. He emotionally took a step back and viewed his medical case as an unbiased medical professional. It took Sherlock about a half hour to read through the several pages of notes and charts due to regularly stopping to provide John with a requested chart read out or to return to an earlier note. When they had finished with the chart John knew nothing had really changed but he felt a little less dependent and vulnerable. He took several minutes to just mull over the information Sherlock had provided him. He considered various options that could have and were taken with his treatment deciding if it was for the best. He determined that for the most part he was in agreement on the manner in which Dr. Barlow and Dr. Reid (the Surgeon who had preformed the initial surgery) had handled his case. Feeling satisfied that "1" his medical care was adequate and "2" he still maintained the ability to understand and process medical information he let out a satisfied sigh as he relaxed further into the bed. He probably would have taken a short nap if his bladder hadn't begun to protest. He supposed it was his own fault since he had convinced one of the nurses to remove his catheter after his CT scan because it just felt aggravating, but he really hadn't thought about the logistics of getting himself to the bathroom on the other side of the room. He contemplated calling a nurse but he knew that would seem insulting to Sherlock who had honestly been nothing but caring and supportive for the short amount of time John could remember with him. Besides given his history in sports and the military having a friend help him limp across the room didn't seem as embarrassing as being unable to feed oneself.

"…uhh Sherlock, could I ask you one more favor?" John asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Of course John, what is…ah bathroom, of course one moment" Sherlock said placing his laptop down on the couch and moving to help John.

"Yea, wait how did you know?" John asked scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.

"You had them remove your catheter while you were getting your CT scan done." Sherlock answered distractedly as he moved Johns right arm over his neck to ensure that he didn't force the injured left shoulder out of its range of flexibility. He placed his left hand on the small of Johns back to help him balance and crouched slightly to accommodate the shorter man. As John focused all of his attention on attempting to walk with as close to a normal gait as he could manage he was distracted from continuing the conversation. The two men made slow progress across the room with John being forced to take wide steps and half dragging his left foot. After maneuvering the door open with his free hand Sherlock looked to John silently asking him exactly how much help/or privacy he wanted.

"If you could just help me to the railing by the toilet I should be good." John said in response to the silent question. Sherlock simply gave a nod of his head and helped John shuffle the last couple steps into the room. John could sense Sherlock's hesitancy to let him go. He figured he was worried that the railing might not be enough for him to maintain his balance. "Its fine, I'm pretty sure I remember how to do this." John said with a chuckle trying to alleviate some of the unease of the situation. "Sorry, right of course." Sherlock said as he backed out of the room.

Sherlock leaned back against the door after closing it behind himself letting out a shaky exhale. _These emotions of his were getting out of control. The craving for physical contact had never been so strong for him before. If he didn't maintain his control he was going to completely scare John away._ There had been a brief moment when John looked down to focus on his legs, which caused his breath to tickle lightly along Sherlock's collarbone. The movement had also placed John's hair beneath his nose providing him with a heady aroma that was purely John. At that instant the thought had flashed across his mind to allow his hand to drift lower along Johns backside and pull him in closer to his side so that he could simply breath in the delicious smell of him and maybe even kiss him. The same impulse had made him hesitant to even release John once they had arrived at their destination._ Maybe he was a psychopath, he was plotting to try and take advantage of his hospitalized and very straight friend._

On the other side of the bathroom door after dealing with the call of nature and carefully maneuvering to lean on the counter top of the sink John stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was disheveled and sticking out at weird angles from the bandage around his head. However, that wasn't really what he was thinking about. _I feel like a bloody teenager again._ He could still feel the warmth from where Sherlock's hand had rested on the small of his back and the sides of his hips had brushed lightly against his own. He had even had to duck his head for a moment while they where walking in order to hide the slight blush that had crept to his cheeks. _Perhaps it would be best if he just confronted Sherlock about his realization regarding their relationship. Then they could kiss and maybe it would trigger his memories to return and..._ John stared at his reflection and stuck his tongue out. _Yea and then the two of you would live happily ever after like in a fucking fairy tale._ He rolled his eyes at the stupidity and foolish schoolgirl fantasy of his thoughts and moved to wash his hands. _No I still feel all my old anxiety's about being outed and if I confront him before I remember how I got over that then he will want to treat me like his husband in public and I wont be able to deal with that and it would probably be far worse for him to see rejection in my eyes than just a lack of memory._ He gave himself a little nod of affirmation before letting Sherlock know that he could open the door again.

The duo took up their positions again and moved slowly back over to the bed. John's forehead was just beginning to glisten with sweat as he relaxed back into the mattress. Sherlock brought John some water he had hardly even realized he wanted until the mug was placed in his hands. He sipped gratefully from the straw that had been added.

"This seems like a vicious cycle," John said with a chuckle as he drained the mug.

"Transport is always a nuisance John, that is why I focus my efforts on the mind." Sherlock replied, as he returned to the couch and typing on his laptop.

"With nothing to really worry about at the moment John allowed his mind to wander.

"His mind calm like a still pond the memory bubbled to the surface unbidden. It took John a moment to realize what exactly was happening and then his eyes shot open in excitement. It was just a short memory but John was thrilled because he had finally remembered him.

He gasped as he sat up his high spirits not even dampened by the headache that began to form as a result of the motion.

"John what is it, are you alright?" The taller man asked out of his chair in an instant and hovering hesitantly next to John's bed.

"I…I just had a flash back" John said still partially in awe at the memory. It had been brief but he could still feel the rush of happy emotions running through him from the memory.

***Flashback***  
>"That was ridiculous, that was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done." He had been gasping for air, out of breath from running… somewhere. He leaned back against the wall as he let his heart rate slow down.<br>"And you invaded Afghanistan." Sherlock quipped leaning against the wall beside him. They both were laughing before he even finished.  
>"That wasn't just me" John replied taking a pause in their childish laughter...<br>***Flashback***

"What did you remember John?" Sherlock asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of his voice.

John quirked an eyebrow, trying for a moment to identify why Sherlock didn't sound quite as excited as he had expected. After a pause he decided it wasn't that important and relayed to the man what he had seen. A smile spread across Sherlock's face as he listened to John retell the memory.

"That was a good moment in time." Sherlock reflected.

"I can't remember why we were running though," John half stated half asked.

"We had been," Sherlock started but then caught himself about to say running from the authorities but realized without some explanation that would probably worry John. "in a rush" He finished rather lamely. John noticed the pause in Sherlock's response and he gave the man a curious look. "You're leaving something out." John asked tilting his head in confusion. "You know that advice the nurse gave you about trying to force me to remember things is so that you don't accidentally generate false memories which would make it difficult for me to regain my own memories. You can provide me with a little detail around the memories that I have return on their own." John explained to Sherlock thinking maybe this was the issue.  
>"I realize that." Sherlock mumbled in response. "Just give me a little time to figure things out." He continued. He was conflicted, he knew now would be the best time to broach the subject of his job, yet he was afraid to discover if Johns response to his deductions would be affected by his head trauma. John looked at Sherlock curiously. He felt as if he could trust the man; and as far as he can remember, which was still a good 32 years, he had always been a pretty good judge of character. Yet, It was clear that the man was trying to keep something from him. "Alright…that seems reasonable" John said hesitantly. Sherlock could hear the confusion in John's voice but knew it would turn into suspicion eventually and his gut clenched in fear.<p>

"John I am sure you have noticed to some extent that my behavior is atypical." Sherlock paused briefly as he gathered his thoughts and determined the best way to continue. He continued to keep his gaze on the floor unwilling to see the reactions to his words play across Johns face. "I score at the Genius level on any of the standard tests available. My mind processes far more information and data in a given moment than the average person generally can fully appreciate. I tell you this not to brag in any way but to ensure that you have all of the facts. As a result of my demanding intellect it is my constant struggle to find something challenging enough and engaging enough to save me from boredom." He spits out the final word with a particular amount of vehemence. A part of him registers that he has never felt the need to explain the why behind his choice to become a detective before, but this is John and with regards to Sherlock, John has always been the exception. "Puzzles, my mind needs challenges John, it baulks at stagnation and in an effort to satisfy this need I had to create a profession of my own. I am a consulting detective. I help the police at Scotland Yard with solving their most difficult cases and provide my services to the public as well. Murders tend to be the most interesting cases to solve so I work on those the most, this fact seems to make many question my motives but I assure you I simply enjoy having puzzles to solve. Some of the police don't understand my methods and are unwilling to work with me… well really only Lestrade is willing to work with me. So as a result I often get your expert medical opinion regarding cause of death and other relevant medical information for cases rather than deal with the police forensic teams. You have become a sounding board for me while I develop my theories. You have shown a better aptitude for implementing my methods of observation than any of the so-called detectives at The Yard. In this last year you have become a critical part of my process for solving cases." Sherlock stops realizing that he has veered far off course with this rant and he hopes John wont read too far into his words. Having started he had felt compelled to continue on telling John more and more, fearing this might be his last chance to explain himself. Silence falls across the room but Sherlock is unwilling to see what John's reaction will be.

"Most people see but they don't observe John. My dedication to the Science of Deduction allows me to note things most people overlook. As a result simple minds assume it is some kind of trick and when my skills are applied to determining the actions of murderer they assume the only way I could know what I know is if I myself am a Psychopath and a murderer." Sherlock finally risks a quick glance up to anxiously search Johns face but he is unsure what emotions he is seeing beyond shock.

"High Functioning Sociopath." He states after a moment.

"What?" John asks in confusion still struggling to keep up with everything he has just been told.

"I'm not a psychopath, I'm a high functioning sociopath." Sherlock states slowly, trying to ensure that John understands this critical distinction. "I enjoy the mystery of the murders not the murders themselves." He adds while searching John's facial expression again.

After a moment John smirked and stated "ah so that's why you noticed the whole catheter thing."

"John I…please don't think that I have in any way used my abilities to falsely represent…" Sherlock began to stammer before John held up a hand stopping, "No, no it was only a joke Sherlock, you have your Science of Deduction but I have my intuition, and my gut seems to trust you." John stated, a little unnerved by how scared this genius of a man was that people would always see his actions as having cruel motives.

Sherlock gave John a confused look before replying "well that seems highly illogical."

"Maybe so, but once you have seen that unexplained gut instinct save your life, you are far less likely to dismiss it as insignificant" John replies thinking back to his first deployment to Afghanistan.

He had been on a patrol with an infantry unit as their medical support. He was near the front of the column of men with only a couple of Soldiers in front of him. They had been hiking along a goat trail weaving its way up the steep side of the valley when he had felt a cold chill rush down his spin. He had frozen mid step returning his foot to its original position because something had just felt off. The vibration of his foot hitting the ground caused a small portion of the silt in front of him to cascade down the mountain. In its wake was just barely visible the small pressure prong of an anti-personnel mine. His heart had frozen in that moment at the realization of how close he had came to getting his legs blown off. The three men in front of him had simply been lucky that they hadn't stepped on the mine either. That experience had solidified for Watson that he shouldn't dismiss his gut reaction to a situation. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Sherlock talking.

"I forget sometimes, about Watson the Soldier, and all the things you probably saw while you were in the military." Sherlock says somberly having realized that John was reliving some near death experience where his intuition had truly saved his life. It scared him to think of exactly how many occasions there may have been where John Watson almost died before the two of them ever got to meet.

"Well don't feel too bad I seem to have forgotten some of it too," John attempted to make light of the situation but his laugh came out sounding bitter. Silence overtook the two of them again as both men got lost in their thoughts.

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><p><strong>Authors Note: I'm not even going to try and justify my absence I just hope you all enjoyed the update.<strong>


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